


Just Go With It

by L_Greene



Category: Homestuck
Genre: And also angst, Bullying, Drinking, F/F, F/M, M/M, Smoking, There will be Porn, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Love, also requited love, but there are kids under that age who drink as well, cursing, gay people with beards, it's the 50s so people are as repressed as you'd think regarding non-heterosexuality, mentions of abusive parents, people losing their virginity, so expect angst in that vein, the story is set in late 1955/early 1956 and the drinking age back then was 18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 68,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Greene/pseuds/L_Greene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Cronus is a greaser, Kankri becomes the junior class president, and just about everyone is secretly gay or bisexual. E for various things including language and smut. (Tracking on Tumblr as "just go with it cronkri" if you're of that persuasion.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mornings were typically annoying for Cronus, but this morning was particularly irritating. He supposed being a senior should have filled him with a sense of triumph, but really, it was still the first day of school and he _really_ didn't want to go back, not just yet.

He briefly contemplated skipping the first day, but as he hopped into a pair of jeans and rolled the cuffs to the top of his high-tops, he realized he couldn't. He had to drive Eridan to school, after all, and there was no way he'd get away with just dropping him at the front and zooming away. Hell, by then, he might as well just stay there and suffer through the rest of the day. It _was_ only the first day, too, so the odds of getting any homework was slim.

He slid a white T-shirt over his head and scanned his mess of a room for his jacket. The guy on the radio had said it would get into the low eighties today before transitioning to "Cool Cat Cavalcade" by Jimmy Rocket and the Engines (it had been burning up the airwaves all summer), so he wouldn't need the jacket for comfort, just for aesthetics.

He finally found it draped over the back of his chair. He was quite proud of it, actually—black leather with _The Lost Boys_ stitched across the back in silver with a symbol he'd designed two years ago outlined in gold. The symbol was wispy-looking aside from two sharp points radiating at a downward angle from the middle. He didn't have his name stitched onto the front like the girls in Meenah's group (they called themselves the Fuchsia Ladies, something he couldn't help but snicker at), but that was because everyone in the Lost Boys could tell their jackets apart. Rufioh had a pair of orange wings on the back of his and Kurloz had a crown on his and Gamzee had three juggling clubs. They were all distinct.

He tossed his jacket onto his bed so he knew where to find it later and headed to the bathroom. This was the most tiresome part of his morning—styling his hair. He squirted a liberal amount of grease into his hair and began combing it out. He was so absorbed he didn't even notice when Eridan burst in and started brushing his teeth—although when he finished brushing and spat out his toothpaste, Cronus noticed _that_.

"Jesus, chief, when did you get in here?"

"About five minutes ago. You better hurry—we gotta leave in like ten minutes."

"Lookin' this good takes time," he called at his younger brother's retreating back.

"Then you should take a little more time!" Eridan shot back.

Cronus almost yelled at him to fuck off, but their parents were still hanging around downstairs and he'd catch hell for cussing in the house. He let it go, thinking Eridan was getting too quick for his own good.

He went back to his room, shrugged on his jacket, patted down his pockets for his keys, wallet, and cigarettes, and called for Eridan, charging down the stairs. "I'm gonna leave without you!" he shouted.

"No, you won't," his mother said, crossing her arms as she looked over at him from the kitchen.

"Aw, jeez, Ma, I'm just tryin' to get him to move faster."

"Don't take that tone with your mother," his father said.

He wasn't going to win this one this way. "Sorry, Ma."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his apology. "Have a good day at school, you two. Have enough money for lunch?"

"I got enough," Eridan said. He'd appeared again without Cronus noticing.

He wasn't an idiot, though. "Actually, I need another fifteen cents. They jacked up the price a' lunch again."

Eridan opened his mouth, but Cronus lightly elbowed the back of his head. Eridan shut his mouth.

"Here." His father got up and handed him a dime and a nickel. "Have a good day."

"Thanks, Dad." Cronus pocketed the extra change and headed out the front door with Eridan in tow. Just before the door closed behind them, he heard his father saying, "...don't know why he dresses like a delinquent..."

"Jesus," he muttered. They could only be talking about him—Eridan never warranted that kind of ire from their father. Then again, Eridan dressed like a nerd. Cronus was just grateful he didn't wear a sport coat and bow tie like that Jake English kid. He'd never be able to live it down.

In a way, he was envious of Kurloz. Sure, Gamzee wasn't exactly the brightest cat in the cage, but he was still cool—hence his presence in the Lost Boys. Eridan wouldn't be a greaser in a million years. Cronus wished he had a cooler younger brother. Not as cool as him, of course, but cooler than Eridan.

"We don't have to get any a' your loser friends, do we?" Eridan asked as Cronus went to the driver's side.

"Yeah, we do, actually. We gotta get Rufioh an' _his_ loser brother. Get in the back."

"I'm not ridin' in the back like a first-grader!" Eridan protested.

"If you're gonna act like a first-grader, I'm gonna treat you like one. In the back."

They were right outside of the house. Cronus didn't really have any way to retaliate if Eridan decided to get in the front anyway, but the kid was fifteen, so he didn't really realize it. He got into the back seat behind Cronus and crossed his arms over his chest.

Eridan sulked the whole way over to Rufioh's place, which suited Cronus just fine. He preferred it when his brother stayed quiet. After he honked the horn, Rufioh and his brother Tavros both appeared and practically sprinted down the Nitram family's front walk amid the chorus of the barking of their three hundred or so bulldogs.

Cronus _definitely_ did not envy Rufioh for anything except maybe his dark good looks. His younger brother looked like a wimp, although part of Cronus didn't blame him. Their old man was a serious drunk who had a tendency to smack around both Rufioh and Tavros, and their old lady had died about six years ago, before Cronus had met Rufioh. They were also dirt-poor, meaning Rufioh was just as likely to come to school with his hair unstyled as slicked back. His hair today was the latter, meaning it probably hadn't been too bad of a morning for them. No matter how bad things got for Rufioh, though, Cronus seldom saw him without a smile. He just knew he wouldn't be able to handle being in Rufioh's shoes—he'd lose his marbles.

"Hey, man, how's it going?" Rufioh asked, hopping in the front seat while Tavros slid into the back.

"Great, apart from a return to the bullshit a' school."

"Yeah, but we're seniors now. Probably won't be so bad."

Cronus let out a snort of laughter. "You really think that, man? I gotta say, you're way more optimistic than me."

Rufioh shrugged, flipping up the collar of his jacket. It was different from the other three in that his was brown leather instead of black. Aside from that, he and Cronus were dressed identically down to their black high-tops. He leaned back and threw his arms across the seat back. "I just got hope, man."

Cronus didn't know how he could be so damned optimistic all the time. Not bothering to press the point further, he put his car in gear and headed toward school.

"Sweet wheels, man," Rufioh added after a few moments.

 _Oh, yeah._ He was so used to having the car already that he'd forgotten—Rufioh hadn't actually seen it yet. He'd just gotten it in July and called Rufioh to tell him that he had a car in the first place. Cronus had used surprisingly little of his parents' significant money to buy it, a fact he was immensely proud of. He'd worked all summer and the summer before just to get it, and now that he had it, a Chrysler New Yorker two model years ago, he wanted nothing more than to soup it up even more.

"Thanks, man. I can't wait to get her into the shop."

"Why? Gonna take her out drag racing?"

"Nah, I'm gonna _beat_ people drag racin'," he said confidently. He heard Eridan snort with laughter and said, "You tell Ma an' Dad an' I'll kick your ass."

Eridan held up his hands in a placating gesture.

Once at school, Cronus dropped Eridan and Tavros at the front before wheeling around. The moment their brothers left the car, they each pulled out a cigarette and lit up, and Cronus began cruising the back parking lot, hunting for Kurloz's indigo Mainline. It had been their habit the last two years to meet at his car on the first day of school, but this was the first time he'd been able to show up in a car of his own. He'd just given it the paint job he wanted, a deep sparkling purple that would have been a bit flamboyant on anything other than a car, but as it was, it looked sweet, flat-out cherry.

He spotted Kurloz's car and gunned the engine, heading for the parking spot right next to it. Kurloz and Gamzee were sitting on the hood of the Mainline when Cronus pulled up, and Kurloz took one look and nearly lost his shit.

"Hey, motherfucker, you can't—" Then he caught sight of who was driving. "Oh, shit, motherfucker, I didn't see you there! You weren't motherfucking joking—killer wheels!"

"Jesus, Kurly, don't your old lady ever wash your mouth out with soap?" Cronus joked, getting out.

"'Course she does," Rufioh said innocently. "But she stopped after he started smoking it."

Fortunately, both Kurloz and Gamzee found his joke riotously funny and dissolved into insane laughter. His comment had some basis in fact, anyway—the running joke was that both of the Makaras would smoke anything if they could hold a lighter to it long enough.

Kurloz and Gamzee wouldn't be mistaken for anything but brothers, too. They both had the same dark, tangled mass of hair—Kurloz would at least attempt a proper greaser style, but Gamzee's hair had been known to swallow combs with no hope of returning them. They had the same hollow cheeks and dark eyes and insane height—Kurloz was six-foot-four and Gamzee was six-foot-one, an inch taller than Cronus—and gaunt frames, but that was because they were both usually too high to realize they were hungry. Right now, though, Cronus just smelled cigarettes on them. That didn't mean neither of them didn't have a joint stashed for later, but at least for the moment, they were sober.

"Any sign a' the Fuchsia Ladies?" Cronus asked, scanning the parking lot. There were the Captor twins heading inside—he recognized them from last year, so they were sophomores now—and two other cats who were probably brothers, one in a bright-red sweater and the other in a regular black shirt, but no sign of Meenah Peixes's fuchsia Windsor Deluxe or, for that matter, anyone else in her little gang.

"I saw one of the motherfucking Serkets heading inside," Gamzee volunteered. He took a long drag on his cigarette. "Couldn't tell which one. Didn't see anyone else, though."

Kurloz gave a dramatic shrug. "There it motherfucking is. One of the Serkets."

Fine and dandy, in Cronus's opinion. He wasn't interested in either of the Serkets anyway—he'd gotten with Aranea last year and he didn't really feel like chasing after her sister. Damara Megido, too, was old news, as was Porrim Maryam, although she wasn't one of the Fuchsia Ladies. No, if he would be scoring with any of the Fuchsia Ladies, it would either be Roxy Lalonde or Meenah herself, and he would be holding out for Meenah if he had any say.

But there was all year for that. It didn't matter right now if they didn't see the girls until lunch or something. He wasn't really in any hurry to get the school year moving.

"So you gonna motherfucking race her?" Kurloz asked, tapping the hood of Cronus's car.

"Yeah, once I soup up the engine. We'll have to take her to the shop—I didn't wanna start fuckin' with the engine at home, y'know? Plus there's actually cats who know what they're doin' in the school shop at least." Cronus sprawled back onto the grass, staring up at the sky. It was a bright day already and he wished he'd thought to get his sunglasses from the car, but it wasn't so bad yet. Rufioh, Kurloz, and Gamzee continued chatting over him and he closed his eyes, letting himself just enjoy being outside and back with his friends.

It had been a long summer. True, he'd spent most of it working, and part of him missed not being at school already, but he also hadn't been able to see any of the other Lost Boys. Rufioh, he supposed, he could have seen, but he hadn't felt like braving that fucked-up family for very long, and he was pretty sure Rufioh had also gotten a job anyway. The Makaras had been forced to accompany their parents to northern Michigan for some unfathomable reason, though, and so seeing them hadn't even been an option. But it didn't matter. The Lost Boys were back together, a relief. He was finally back with people who actually gave a shit about him instead of his parents, who were a real drag and never did anything but drag him down, and his brother who was just a typical uncool younger brother. It was over.

He heard a bottle being uncapped and felt himself grinning automatically.

"Want a beer, motherfucker?" Kurloz asked. Ever since he'd turned eighteen last December, he'd been the supplier of alcohol, at least until Cronus had turned eighteen two months later. Rufioh would be seventeen until April and Gamzee was still sixteen, but two people buying booze for four had been relatively easy.

"Yeah, chief, hand it over," Cronus said, opening his eyes and sitting up.

Rufioh tossed a bottle over from some unseen compartment in the back seat of Kurloz's Mainline. Cronus caught it easily and popped the top off with his keys. As glad as he was to be back with friends, the actually being at school part really sucked. He didn't know how he'd made it through three previous first days at Lakeside High School sober, but he was glad he didn't have to do it anymore.

The other three had already opened their bottles, so Cronus held it up. "To the seniors a' the Class a' 1956, to the lone junior in our midst, an' to all the chicks who don't know they're gonna bang us yet."

Gamzee nearly spilled his drink, he laughed so hard, and Rufioh mimed wiping a tear from his eye. "Bangarang, brother. For a second there, I thought you were gonna say something sentimental."

"Not a chance."

They knocked their bottles together to a chorus of laughter, and as the first bell rang, warning them to get to homeroom, they tilted the bottles back and chugged them. Cronus finished his in thirty seconds, tossed the empty bottle behind him, and stood up. "Back out here for lunch?"

"You know it," Rufioh said. He rolled his bottle into the parking lot and stood up as well. "Come on, guys. Let's get this over with."


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't have to be at school until eight, so when he woke up at six, he sat in bed for a long time with his arms around his knees.

He missed home. This place where they lived now, it wasn't home—not really. He missed his old friends and his old school and his old room. Everything here was unfamiliar, even after he'd had two months to get used to it. Karkat didn't have it as bad as he did, either—his younger brother was just starting high school and would have had to start over at a new school anyway, but he was a junior. All these kids had known each other for at least two years, and here he was, a brand-new face in a sea of students who knew each other.

Finally, though, he rolled out of bed and picked out his clothes. He chose the black pants he normally wore to church and a red dress shirt before deciding he was in need of an extra bit of comfort today. He located his favorite red sweater—it was late August, incredibly warm, but he wanted to wear the sweater anyway—and pulled it over his head. His hair was a mess and he halfheartedly attempted to comb it out, but it was useless. It would take more time than he had to try to straighten it.

"Karkat," he called, pounding on his brother's bedroom door, "are you awake?"

There was music coming from within, some rock-and-roll-sounding music he couldn't identify, leading him to believe that his brother was up, but it was also possible that he was sleeping through his alarm. Either way, Karkat needed to turn off the music in a hurry—their father considered any music not explicitly spiritual to be "Devil's music." "Karkat! I don't intend to hasten you beyond your comfort level, but if we're tardy for our first day of school—"

The door flew open, and Karkat's angry glare met him. He hissed, "Kankri. _Shut the fuck up._ "

"Father will hear—"

"He won't if you stop goddamn yelling," Karkat growled.

Kankri pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "Your language is offensive this early in the morning," he said testily.

"My _language_ is always fucking offensive to you."

"Your behavior is reminiscent of a ten-year-old who just learned his first curse words."

"Just... give me five fucking minutes to get dressed and I'll be right there, okay? I don't need you hovering over my goddamn shoulder like a moth." Before Kankri could answer, his brother closed the door. He didn't slam it, of course—loud noises like doors slamming would annoy their father, and Kankri had seen enough of Reverend Karter S. Vantas at full rage during his sermons to know that any lectures toward his sons would be unpleasant.

Kankri sighed and went to the kitchen where his mother was just pulling a dish of pancakes from the oven to keep them warm. "Good morning, Kankri," she said pleasantly.

"Good morning, Mother."

"Go sit down and I'll bring you some breakfast. Is your brother awake?"

"Yes, Mother." He sat down, briefly contemplating telling her about Karkat's new habit of cursing, but he decided against it. It would no doubt come back to his father, and Reverend Vantas wasn't the most understanding of souls. As offended as Kankri was by his brother's language, he disliked calling down his father's wrath.

"Good. I don't want either of you late on your first day."

Kankri didn't answer. He stared at the plate in front of him, thinking back to Louisiana and how he wished they were still there. Ohio wasn't bad, of course—in terms of weather, the summer at least was comparable. But he missed his old friends, as few and far between as they were, and he missed his old school.

But going back wasn't an option. His father had already begun to lead a new congregation, and it looked like Karkat would be graduating from Lakeside High School in four years' time. Kankri wondered where he would be at that point. It was his father's fondest hope that one or even both of his sons would follow him into the ministry, but Kankri wasn't sure it was the right choice for him. He believed, of course, and he would never renounce any of his father's teachings, but he didn't feel called to do the same thing.

He almost laughed at the idea of Karkat becoming a reverend himself. There was no way he would ever follow their father's example.

"Are you alright, dear?" his mother asked, patting his hair.

He blinked and realized she'd already served him. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed. "Of course, Mother. Forgive me. I was just... thinking."

"I know it's been hard on you. It's very different up here. But if you keep your faith, I'm certain you'll triumph over this obstacle," she added with a reassuring smile. "You're a strong young man."

Kankri nodded. "Of course, Mother."

Karkat appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later, buttoning up a black shirt. He, too, hadn't bothered to comb his hair, but whereas Kankri would have at least attempted it had he been told, Karkat flat-out refused.

"Good morning, Karkat," their mother said as he sat down next to Kankri, at the foot of the table.

"Morning, Mom."

She glanced worriedly at the clock on the wall. "You're not going to have much time to eat, I'm afraid. Just eat what you can, alright, dear?"

Karkat shrugged in apathy and Mrs. Vantas put two pancakes on his plate.

"Where's Father?" Kankri asked suddenly, realizing his place at the head of the table was empty.

"He had an emergency this morning."

He vaguely recalled the phone ringing before six, half-waking him. "Problem?"

"One of the older women in the congregation went to the hospital last night. He went over for spiritual assistance."

That sounded like his father, all right. He felt guilty for the surge of relief that his father wasn't there.

After a few more minutes of silent chewing, she looked up at the clock again. "Just leave your plates there. I'll wash the dishes later." Their mother pulled two brown bags out of the refrigerator as Kankri and Karkat stood up. "Here are your lunches. Be careful on your way to school. You remember how to get there, right?"

Their father had driven them the way to school every other day nearly all summer. Of course they remembered how to get there. "Yes, Mother."

"Good. Have a blessed day."

Kankri kissed her goodbye. "You, too, Mother." Karkat followed suit, and the two of them picked up their lunches and headed out the front door.

"At least Dad wasn't there," Karkat muttered as soon as they'd crossed the street. "I don't need to hear his lecture on the evils of public high schools again."

"It'll be different," Kankri said quietly. "I feel rather out-of-place without a uniform. Don't you?"

"A little. But I'm also really looking forward to being able to wear whatever I want to school."

Kankri scoffed. "Mother and Father won't let you wear 'whatever you want.' You know that."

"Don't be such a killjoy."

The two of them continued bickering until they found themselves in front of Lakeside High School. "There's a lot of cars in the parking lot," Kankri observed. "How many teachers do they _have_ here?"

"Uh, look. There's teenagers getting out of the cars. I'm pretty sure those are students' cars."

"Students?" He looked closer, eyeing one dark-pink car that had four girls piling out of it. "Oh. You're right."

"Obviously. Look, let's not go in the front door," Karkat added. "Side door. That way, we won't get stared at."

"We're bound to be stared at anyway. I don't see what good using a different door will do," Kankri argued, but he followed Kankri toward the rear entrance, weaving through the small mob of students. He glanced to his left and locked eyes momentarily with a boy with his dark hair slicked back and wearing a white T-shirt, a leather jacket, and blue jeans cuffed at the tops of his shoes. _Oh, no._ Apparently there were greasers here, too. They'd caused him problems at his old high school, and he'd hoped that maybe the greaser phenomenon was isolated to the Louisiana area, but apparently it wasn't. He tried to look smaller, suddenly acutely aware of his bright-red sweater, and prayed he avoided notice.

Fortunately, the greaser turned around to focus on three of his friends, all of whom were wearing leather jackets as well. Before Kankri could look away, he registered the embroidery on the back of the jacket. _The Lost Boys._ Well. _That_ certainly seemed like a fitting name. Lost boys indeed.

Karkat slipped inside a few seconds before him, but no one else followed them. The hallways seemed fairly empty, considering the number of students milling around outside. "We need to find the main office," Kankri said. "Father said they had our schedules there."

"Why couldn't they have just fucking mailed the damn things?" Karkat grumbled.

"Stop it, Karkat. Excuse me," he added, flagging down a boy in a yellow shirt. "Where's the main office?"

The boy looked him over and grinned. His teeth looked unusually sharp, but maybe that was because they were wired with braces. "Aww, poor freshmen. It's that way," he said with a slight lisp and a finger pointed straight ahead of them.

"I'm not a freshman," Kankri corrected him. He'd already dealt with one year as a freshman—he wouldn't be mistaken for one again, even if he did happen to still _look_ like one. Although he was still fairly short, his father was five-foot-ten, and he hoped he still had some growing left in him.

"You're not? I've never seen you here before."

"My family moved here from Louisiana this summer. I'm a junior, actually, but my brother—"

"Oh, _shit_ , you're the preacher's kids!" Something about that seemed to amuse the other boy, and he covered his mouth to hide his grin. "Welcome to Lakeside! See you around!" Without another word, he hurried away.

"What... what was that?"

"Fucking idiot," Karkat muttered. "I do _not_ want to be known as 'the preacher's son' everywhere I fucking go from now on."

"I admit, it eliminates a fair bit of anonymity I was hoping to have, at least for the first few days. Everyone will expect us to behave perfectly."

"Which I'm sure will be no fucking problem for _you_. Me, on the other hand..."

Kankri closed his eyes and shook his head as the bell rang. "Let's hurry and find the office. We don't have much time to waste anymore."

But the first bell had opened the floodgates, and students poured into the building. They fought the current of bodies pushing them away from the office until, just seconds before the second bell rang, they arrived, looking decidedly worse for the wear.

"Can I help you?" said a stern-looking man behind the front desk. The name plate in front of him read _A. Renendez_ , so Kankri squared his shoulders.

"Yes, Mr. Renendez. My name is Kankri Vantas, and this is my brother Karkat. We're—well, _I'm_ a transfer student; it's Karkat's first high school. We were just—"

"Oh, Reverend Karter's kids. We've been expecting you, actually."

Next to him, Karkat began grumbling under his breath about being "the fucking preacher's kids" yet again. Kankri could kind of understand his frustration, but he didn't understand what was so inherently wrong with being a child of a preacher. If anything, they were more fortunate than their peers.

"Here are your schedules. Your homeroom is Room 413 with Ms. Mendicant," Renendez said, looking at Kankri, "and Karkat, you're in 826 with Mr. Valence. Just follow the numbers—you'll find your way."

And with that, they were pushed back out into the crush of students, and Kankri had to grab his brother's collar to keep him from being yanked away by the current. "The 600 classrooms are right here," he murmured, glancing down the nearest corridor. They had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right the first time, assuming the hallways were numbered logically.

Or he could try to flag down another student and hope he got more help.

That didn't seem likely to happen, though. The longer he hovered, the more hurried-looking the others seemed to be. A few moments later, the second bell rang, and Kankri went into panic mode. Neither he nor Karkat were where they needed to be and the hallways were emptying of people and doors were slamming shut and a chorus of footfalls were heading toward them from behind, accompanied by excited whooping and Kankri spun around just in time to see the greasers from earlier—all four of them—charging down the hallway. His heart pounded and he pressed himself against the wall to get out of their way, unable to suppress the tremor of fear that ran through him. All of them were bigger than him, and the one with the brown jacket actually had the tips of his hair colored _red_ , and how was that allowed here? And the other two with the wide leers—something about them seemed a little off, but Kankri didn't have the mental capacity to try to figure it out right now, not with the greasers bearing down.

And then all of a sudden, with the first one, the one with the black jacket with the intricate design on the back, grinning at him and turning away, they vanished, leaving the bitter stench of beer behind them. Three of them—the first greaser, the one with red in his hair, and the taller of the crazy-looking ones—darted off to the right, and the other one went left. Two doors slammed from the hallway to the right, and then another to the left, and Kankri was left standing there in the deserted hallway, praying none of them were juniors, or at least in his homeroom.

"Okay, Karkat, we should find our classrooms now." He waited a beat and looked around. "Karkat?"

But the hallway really _was_ empty. Karkat had vanished, too. "Okay," he murmured. "Okay. He probably found his classroom already." But where had he even gone?

It didn't matter. He'd find his brother later. He needed to find his homeroom now. He glanced nervously toward the hallway the trio of greasers had disappeared down and turned left, away from it. He would continue hoping until it was foolish to continue doing so anymore.

When the next hallway he passed started with classroom 510, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was going in the right direction after all. His pace quickened and he arrived in the 400 wing and began scanning for 413. Five seconds later, he slipped through the door as quietly as he could and saw the only seat open—right in the middle, behind a girl with a violently-pink jacket reading _The Fuchsia Ladies_ across the back.

_Good enough._ He sat down and crossed his arms over his chest, allowing his heart rate to drop.

Not a greaser in sight.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey!"

Dave jolted awake, fumbling automatically for his sunglasses and sliding them on his face. Outside his room, his brother pounded on the door, the cause of his abrupt return to consciousness. He mumbled something that was supposed to be, "What's going on?" but came out as more of a, "Huh?"

"Let's go!" Dirk called through the door again. "You got five minutes, bro! We gotta go get Harley!"

"Shit," Dave muttered. He threw the covers off his bed and stumbled toward his closet, grabbing the first shirt he could find and jumping into a pair of jeans. He straightened his sunglasses and shrugged into his leather jacket, hunting for his shoes. Once he'd tied the red high-tops, he dashed out of his room, ducking under Dirk's swinging fist heading right for his nose, and skidded into the kitchen.

"Catch!" Dack, his oldest brother, called, tossing a piece of toast into the air and half-batting, half-slicing it toward him with one of his hundreds of katanas. Their tiny house was a deathtrap with all the sharp implements they had laying around, but Dave was used to navigating it by now.

He caught the now-separate pieces of toast and stuck them in his mouth. Dack grinned and set the katana up on the counter, pushing his own glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "Nice one. You guys taking off soon?"

"Now, actually." Dirk's voice came out of nowhere, but Dave didn't jump. If he gave any indication that he was anything but on his guard at all times, Dack and Dirk wouldn't let up on him. "Keys."

"Catch." Dack pulled the keys to his Monterey out of nowhere, picked up his katana, tossed the keys up in the air, and batted them toward Dirk with the flat of the blade. Dirk caught them, elbowed the back of Dave's head, and said, "Let's get Harley."

Dack called after them, "If you put so much as a scratch on that car, I'll pull your teeth out through your ass!"

"Eat me!" Dirk yelled back, slamming the front door behind Dave. "Hope you got everything you need, little man," he added, popping up the collar on his own leather jacket, "'cause we're not going back in there until after school."

"Come on, bro, we can't skip a few classes?"

"Not this year, bro." Just to spite Dack, Dave was sure, Dirk slid across the hood of the Monterey, the chain on his wallet scraping harmlessly against the metal. "Gotta graduate. Senior, baby."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Dave dropped into the passenger's seat and crossed his arms, suppressing a sigh. Dirk was a senior this year and Dack had graduated just over five years ago, but Dave was only a sophomore. He could appreciate Dirk's motivation to graduate from Lakeside High School and not come back, but that just meant that if (and when) he cut classes, it would be with Harley. Which wasn't bad, truth be told, but Dack wouldn't let him drive the car without either him or Dirk there as well, and Dirk wouldn't give him the keys during the day, so he'd probably be stuck under the bleachers. That wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his school days, but he reminded himself it was only for a year. Next year, he'd drive himself and Harley to school and he would have control of the car during the day.

They pulled up in front of Harley's house ten minutes later. Fortunately, she'd seen them coming and ran out the front door with her book bag bouncing on her shoulder and her long hair streaming behind her. Her full name was actually Jade Harley, but they called her by her last name since it sounded better. She was a generally cool chick, despite her buck teeth and round glasses. She'd been hanging out with Dave for as long as he could remember and, surprisingly, was one of the few people—besides his brothers—that he could tolerate for more than ten minutes. He scooted his seat forward and popped open the door to let her slide into the backseat. "Morning, Striders!"

"Hey, Harley. Your old man threaten to shoot us again?" Dirk asked, pulling away from the curb.

He wasn't joking about the "old man" part. Harley lived with her grandfather, not her parents. Dave didn't know the details, which was a bit of a surprise considering how long they'd known each other, but to his recollection, she'd never lived with her parents. Her grandfather had always been her guardian.

"Well, he had his rifle, but he didn't actually _say_ he'd shoot you today. I think he's getting used to you."

"It's not like it's been ten years or anything," Dave muttered.

"Closer to thirteen, silly," Harley said, swatting at his shoulder.

"Oh, three years, big deal."

Dirk smirked and rolled down his window. "Feel like driving past some upperclass fucks?"

"I thought you wanted to get to school," Dave pointed out.

Dirk checked his watch. "Eh. We got time."

"We have ten minutes to make it to school before the first bell," Jade said, waving her own watch as proof.

"Alright, fine. After school, though."

"That'll give us time to collect rocks," Dave joked.

"Good point." Dirk gunned the engine and they sped up.

Dave leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He heard movement in the backseat but didn't think anything of it until someone snatched his sunglasses off his face—or tried to, anyway. Automatically, his hand shot up and his fingers wrapped around a wrist. Harley's wrist. There was no way that bony arm belonged to Dirk. "Don't touch the shades," Dave said, but his voice lacked conviction. If it was anyone but Harley or one of his brothers, he would have at least attempted to break their arm, but he knew her. She was harmlessly fucking with him, and their thirteen years of friendship had entitled her to that.

As Dirk pulled into a parking space at school (in the middle of fucking nowhere, since all the good spots had been taken already), Dave ratcheted his seat fully up so Harley would be able to get out. He opened his door and a bell rang, echoing through the nearly-deserted parking lot and school lawns.

"We're late," Harley announced, hopping to the ground. "That was the second bell."

Dirk rubbed the bridge of his nose under his own sunglasses. Despite his frankly-terrifying driving habits, they still hadn't made it on time. "It's the first day," he muttered. "No one's gonna notice a few punks walking in late."

Harley slung her bag over her shoulder as they walked toward the building and gently tugged her hair out from where it was pinned between the bag's strap and the leather of her jacket. "Too bad we won't have the same homeroom," she said to Dave.

"Yeah." It would have been nice to have a friend with him, but last year had driven home the futility of that hope. He headed off in the direction of his homeroom and went inside, not bothering for subtlety. He was already late. There was no point in trying to sneak in.

* * *

"Nice to see you've joined us. Mr. Strider, I presume?" the teacher said, a stern-looking woman with an hourglass figure and a black dress. Everyone at school called her _Snowman_ because she was cold and it was easier to say than _Snowwoman_. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized he couldn't remember her real name.

"That's me," Dave confirmed.

"Only three minutes late."

"I know—not bad, right?" He slid into the first open seat he could find, next to a girl whose name he vaguely recalled started with an _F_.

"I hope you're not planning to make it a habit, Mr. Strider." Snowman's voice could have frozen over hell. It went beyond a mere chill—she sounded dangerous, angry. Dave knew better than most that a cold rage was far worse than a hot one. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate to push a teacher's buttons, but it _was_ only the first day of school, and he was still a little lethargic from being woken up sooner than he would have liked; he wasn't in full form for a good old-fashioned debate with this broad. Besides, he also didn't feel like being the first person to get sent to detention this year.

So Dave leaned back in his seat. "Don't worry about me, teach. I'll be a perfect angel."

A chorus of snickers erupted, including from the girl next to him, who hid her face behind her hair. He couldn't hold back a self-satisfied smirk.

"Mr. Strider, if you say one more word in this classroom today, I will give you detention. Is that understood?"

He didn't want to test her limits today. Maybe tomorrow. He nodded.

"And take off the damn sunglasses."

Dave cocked his head to the side. _You sure about that, teach?_ All of the teachers last year had been a little unnerved by his stare and allowed him to keep his sunglasses on. Dirk and Dack had the same freaky eye thing, too—it was a family trait, just like their sunglasses. On top of that, he was sitting right in front at the moment.

"Take them off," Snowman repeated.

Dave raised his hand to the wire frames, keeping his eyes fixed dramatically on Snowman as he took the sunglasses off. He set them carefully on his desk and continued to stare unblinkingly at her, privately enjoying the way her eyes widened slightly as she finally saw.

His pupils, he was sure, were constricted, being unused to natural light due to the sunglasses. His irises would be nice and noticeable, all blood red and creepy. In his peripherals, he saw a few of his classmates leaning in to get a look at what had made Snowman go slightly pale, but he kept his eyes locked on her.

A muscle in her jaw twitched. She swallowed, the motion almost imperceptible. "Put your sunglasses back on, Strider," she hissed.

 _That's what I thought._ Dave slid his sunglasses back on and closed his eyes for a few moments. As soon as humanly possible, he was dragging either Dirk or Harley out of their classes and shooting the shit under the bleachers because he could _not_ spend the whole year this way.

Fortunately, homeroom was only twenty minutes long. The bell rang and the sophomores filtered out and to their new lockers. Dave already spun his lock around his finger as he popped open number 1206. It had a few tiny scraps of paper from last year when whatever student had owned this locker previously hadn't quite cleaned it out fully, but that didn't bother him. He didn't have anything to put in here right now anyway. At the end of the day, it would be filled with books, but right now, it was empty.

He briefly considered climbing in, but he'd barely fit last year and his shoulders were broader now. There was no way he'd fit this time.

Two greasers—the Lost Boys, they called themselves—charged down the hall, completely ignoring him. They tended to harass a lot of people, of course. Cronus, who seemed to be the leader (although the three oldest ones seemed like they didn't really take orders from either of the others; it was only the youngest one, the junior, the younger brother of one of the others, who just kind of followed along), particularly liked to taunt one of the other sophomores. One of the Captor twins. Dave could never quite figure out which one was which, but he knew that Cronus only bullied one of them, not the other, which struck Dave as a little odd because both of the twins had the same speech problem and fucked-up teeth. The twins were identical in every way except their hair.

But Dave and Dirk had never called down greaser ire. The Lost Boys left them alone for whatever reason. The Striders weren't greasers themselves, although they had a lot in common with them (not the greasers _here_ of course, because all but the one with red in his hair were actually rich, upperclass fuckwads who didn't have to worry about their damn cars breaking down every other week). The Striders could take care of themselves, just like the greasers, and they stuck together. The only thing he could think of that separated them from greasers was their hair. Dave and his brothers did not worry in the slightest about slicking their hair back or forward or any which way.

Harley was a pretty big difference, too. Greasers typically only hung out with girls they planned to fuck or were already fucking. Harley wasn't one of the girls who had a few other girlfriends and started their own rival clique of whatever the female version of a greaser was. Harley was actually one of them.

Her grandpa was pretty rich, one of the reasons he was able to afford that two-story house and all those guns, but he'd taught Harley how to shoot at a young age and she was a crack shot by now. Besides, she didn't let her money control her, unlike that Cronus Ampora asshole and his friends and their pretentious embroidered jackets.

Dave involuntarily slammed his locker shut. He needed to just ignore them. At the end of the year, three would be gone, and only the junior would be left. That one barely had a functioning brain cell in his head, so he didn't have much to worry about.

He stalked off toward his first class, which he already knew he didn't have with Harley. They only shared lunch and sixth-hour PE, which was still better than what he shared with Dirk, which was nothing. Dirk had fifth-hour lunch, the unfortunate fuck, which meant he'd be starving by lunch time.

He went right for the back of the classroom in first-hour math. The last thing he wanted was to be front and center again, not after homeroom. This teacher probably wouldn't make him take off his glasses, though. He'd already had a class with her last year and she knew about his eyes. For once, he was grateful to have a teacher he knew already.

The bell rang and he found himself staring at the back of the head of the boy in front of him. There wasn't anything particularly _fascinating_ about the back of this head—the boy's hair was dark brown and a little longer than normal, with wisps that wrapped around and behind his ears and a tuft near the top that wouldn't lie flat, as if there was a breeze going through it. Dave tilted his head to the side, wondering if the boy had a cowlick or if he just hadn't combed his hair before coming to school.

The teacher spoke calmly about classroom rules as if they weren't the same in every classroom while she dropped stacks of books on the first desk of every row. One by one, they were passed back until the boy in front of Dave had two books. The boy twisted in his seat, dropped the last book on Dave's desk, and grinned at him.

"Hey, man. Nice shades. Think she's gonna make you take them off?"

Dave shook his head numbly, grateful again for the sunglasses. Now, at least, the widening of his eyes wouldn't be noticed. He wasn't quite sure why it seemed like the other boy had blue eyes so pale they could see right through him, especially magnified in those glasses he wore, but that thought made him squirm.

He pushed his sunglasses firmly up the bridge of his nose and sat back.


	4. Chapter 4

The only time Dirk ever took off his sunglasses when he wasn't at home was when he was in the bathroom at school and he was positive no one else was around. His eyes tended to freak people out a bit, except for Dave and Dack, of course. They didn't have much room to talk in that department—Dave's eyes were red and Dack's were yellow. Dirk's eyes could have almost passed for a light brown until you looked closely and saw they were quite obviously orange.

He avoided his own gaze even though he was wearing his sunglasses and waited casually for the bathroom to empty out. He was sure it would soon—there was only about twenty-five seconds until the second bell. He wouldn't be leaving, though. Not right away. He was waiting for someone.

The second bell rang and Dirk stayed put until everyone else had left. He began counting down to himself from sixty, telling himself that if that door didn't open by the time he reached zero, he would just leave. He couldn't wait around all morning.

He kept his eyes locked on the door. When he'd gotten to seventeen, the door swung open and a junior in a bow tie with a bag over his shoulder strolled in.

Dirk felt himself smiling automatically. The junior smoothed back his messy hair and flashed a shy, tentative smile back at him, biting on his lip for a moment. "Hey, Dirk."

"Hey, Jake. I... I wasn't sure you were going to be here." As he spoke, Jake set his book bag down and closed the bathroom door.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, closing the gap between them until he was only a few feet away.

Dirk's heart rate picked up slightly, but he managed to keep his voice level. "Just... it's been a long summer. I thought maybe you'd... I don't know, get tired of me or something."

Jake's smile widened a little and he put his hand up to cup Dirk's cheek. "No way. I really missed you."

"Good. I missed you, too."

Jake stood on his tiptoes to press his lips gently to Dirk's, and the senior felt his heart skip a beat and his stomach start turning pleasantly and his face getting warm, and he wound his arms around Jake's waist. He'd missed this, being close to Jake and seeing him every day. It was actually the main reason he'd been secretly looking forward to school starting back up—although he'd also been terrified because, for a nerd, Jake was really attractive and he could have easily found someone else over the summer or just decided he didn't want anything to do with Dirk anymore.

That prospect scared him more than anything. Jake could just walk away, but Dirk couldn't—not if he wanted to remain intact. He couldn't explain it, but he just knew nothing would be the same if Jake left. It would hurt too much.

And he knew, if anything, it would be Jake who would end it, not him.

A burst of laughter echoed in the hallway outside the bathroom and they broke apart, Jake's violently green eyes widening. "Are we alone in here?" he whispered.

Dirk nodded silently and tugged him into the closest stall and locked it. Chest to chest, they waited, neither of them daring to breathe until a full ten seconds passed without anyone bursting in on them. "I think we're in the clear," Dirk murmured.

Jake nodded, reached up, and gently slid the senior's sunglasses off. Dirk closed his eyes until Jake had folded up the glasses and hung them from Dirk's shirt. Only then did he open his eyes, still self-conscious of them around Jake after all this time.

Eight months. It had been eight months since all this started. It had been an accident, a total accident, but it had still somehow led to this, clandestine moments stolen in bathrooms between classes, feigned study sessions (Jake being an ultra-nerd had its benefits; they'd had two classes together last year and had excuses to study together) at Jake's house while his deaf grandmother remained oblivious downstairs (and that was fortunate because no matter how much he tried to keep his voice down, Dirk was loud) and there was no way in hell they'd get any amount of privacy at the Strider house. Not with Dack and Dave strifing everywhere.

In eight months, it wasn't enough, not by a long shot, but it was all they had.

But Jake just smiled up at him and kissed him again, just as lightly and just as sweetly as before. He was used to Dirk's eyes. He would tell him that they were unique, they made him stand out.

Dirk closed his eyes, winding his arms back around Jake and letting him melt into the kiss. He'd missed Jake so much—the summer hadn't allowed a single moment for them to see each other, not with Jake and his grandmother in South America from the middle of June to just two weeks ago. He'd been craving this for two and a half months now.

A dull thud sounded and Jake let out an, _"Oof,"_ somehow registering in his head, and he realized that he'd pushed Jake against the wall of the bathroom stall. The junior wasn't complaining, though—Dirk felt his smile widen against his lips as he brought a hand up to ruffle through Dirk's short blond hair.

They'd just settled into a comfortable rhythm when the bathroom door banged open.

 _Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit—!_ They froze, breaking the kiss, and Jake put his index finger to his lips and pointed away from the stall door, toward the wall with the toilet.

Dirk nodded once and they moved silently. He climbed on top of the toilet and perched on the tank, allowing Jake to actually sit on the seat. He'd just sat down when there came the sound of something scraping across the floor and whoever had just walked in called, "Uh, is this someone's bag?"

Jake's face contorted in aggravation and he smacked his forehead. "Y-yeah, that's mine. Can you just leave it there? I'm... a little busy right now."

"Yeah, sure." There was an awkward silence for a moment until the mystery student—Dirk didn't recognize his voice—shuffled over to a urinal, unzipped his pants, and started peeing. Dirk closed his eyes and leaned back, automatically running his fingers through Jake's dark hair. The shorter boy let out a soft sigh and leaned into Dirk, his head resting on Dirk's stomach.

It seemed to take hours for the other student to finish and wash his hands and _leave_ , but once the door banged shut behind him, Jake leaped up and darted out of the cubicle. He brought his bag back, closed the stall door, and went right back to Dirk, who'd finally hopped off the tank.

"That was a close—" he started, but Jake cut him off with another kiss.

Dirk couldn't help smiling. More than anything, that had reassured him that Jake really _had_ missed him.

* * *

"I need to be way more drunk for this," Rufioh muttered under their science teacher's talking, his head resting in the palm of his right hand with his arm on the lab table.

"Fuckin' agreed," Cronus answered.

"Are you going to deal or are you just going to shuffle all class long?" Damara said, surreptitiously elbowing Meenah in the ribs.

Meenah rolled her eyes, set the deck of cards down on the lab table, and shrugged out of her jacket. She could tell that Cronus and Rufioh were delighted to have a couple of the Fuchsia Ladies in their science class, and she was pleased that she had three classmates who weren't total assholes (only partly, in Cronus's case—at least Rufioh seemed genuinely nice most of the time). Damara was pretty thrilled, too, since she had a _huge_ crush on Rufioh and talked about him nearly nonstop. Out of necessity, the four of them had teamed up, and altogether, it wasn't a bad arrangement.

For all the flaws in his personality, Meenah had to admit that Cronus was pretty smart, and his smile bordered on knee-melting when it wasn't forced. He was also a decent enough poker player to give her a run for her considerable money, and she liked a challenge. "Way _more_ drunk?" she asked Rufioh. "Implyin' that you're already drunk?"

Rufioh flashed her that lazy grin that had Damara swooning. "Little bit, doll. One of the benefits of friends who're eighteen already."

If she didn't know Rufioh better—and she knew him fairly well, considering they'd been classmates for four years and hung out with the same type of people—she would be certain he was flirting with her. But she _did_ know him, and she knew that he actually didn't realize he was hot and just about everything he said could be construed as flirting. And he _was_ hot. It was actually kind of infuriating, although she wasn't about to tell him that. She also wasn't about to flirt with him, either—he wasn't her type, and he was dirt-poor to boot.

Cronus sniggered behind his hand.

"Yeah, _whale_ , wait 'til the buzz wears off an' you're down here with the rest of us," Meenah said.

"Then we go out to Kurloz's car an' repeat the process," Cronus said lazily. "Rufi, you see how much more he had?"

Rufioh half-shrugged. "Enough to make it through the day. Well, unless Gamzee decides to get hammered. He could probably drink all that."

"He better not. Kid's sixteen—s'not so bad if one a' us gets caught drunk, but him? We're gonna all get in trouble," Cronus pointed out.

"Like it'll be so much better for me? I'm only seventeen," Rufioh said.

Meenah rolled her eyes and began dealing. "Alright, _gills_ and _buoys_ , the name of the game is poker, five-card draw. We'll play three hands to warm up an' then we'll start bettin' cash. Everyone got the dough?"

"Yeah, I got like..." Cronus rubbed his eyes, thinking. "Four or five bucks?"

"I have sixty cents," Rufioh muttered. He dumped a small pile of change onto the table. "Wait, no, forty-five cents. I need to buy lunch."

"I got your lunch, chief, don't worry about it," Cronus said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"What about you, doll?" Rufioh asked Damara.

She blushed deeply at the nickname, but Meenah nearly groaned. He called every girl he talked to "doll." She hoped Damara wasn't misconstruing what he was saying.

"I have about fifty cents. I have to save my own lunch money."

" _Whale_ , you all _minnow_ I got cash on hand. So let's do this." Meenah gave the cards one last, quick shuffle and set the deck in front of Damara. "Cut."

Damara cut the deck into three piles and stacked them back up again. Once she was finished, Meenah took the deck and started dealing one card at a time, Rufioh to Cronus to Damara and then to herself. She finished dealing and set the cards on the lab table while everyone else checked their hands.

Rufioh scowled, picked out three cards from his hand, and grabbed three more from the deck. Cronus's expression was unreadable as he replaced three of his own cards. Damara only switched two, looking slightly smug.

Meenah scratched the back of her head. She had the queen of clubs, the eight of hearts, the seven and six of diamonds, and the three of clubs. The six through eight would give her a good chance of getting a straight, although she would have preferred it if they were all of the same suit. _Oh, whale._ She relinquished the queen and three of clubs and drew two more cards. _Better._ It wasn't quite what she wanted—the eight of spades and seven of hearts—but two pairs were better than nothing.

Apparently, it was better than what Cronus had, too, because he groaned quietly and set his forehead on the table.

"Pair of tens," Rufioh said, showing off the tens of hearts and clubs.

"It wanted to be a straight. Damn it, it _tried_ to be a straight. But I got nothin'," Cronus said. "Fuckin' _nothin'_."

"Pair of jacks," Damara announced. She set her cards on the table—among the jacks of diamonds and spades, there was also the queen of diamonds, the king of spades, and the three of spades.

" _Whale_ I just blew all you suckas out of the water. Two pair." Meenah set her cards down and smirked.

"Good thing we're not playin' for money yet," Cronus said. "I get the feelin' that today's just not my fuckin' day. You chicks are gonna clean me out."

Meenah smirked and gathered up all the cards to begin shuffling them again. "A little sobriety goes a long way, angelfish."

At "angelfish," Cronus started smirking back. Meenah could already see where this was going—she and Roxy were the only two in the Fuchsia Ladies that Cronus hadn't gotten with, and she expected he would be going after one of them this year. From the looks of it, he was angling for her—which she also expected because Roxy, while being cool and actually the smartest person Meenah knew, was a total lush and generally made really stupid choices. Meenah was by far the superior choice.

She rolled around that prospect in her head, thinking about going with him, and decided she wasn't going to reject the possibility outright. The odds of her finding better prospects this year were slim, and besides, everyone knew the Amporas were loaded. He was pretty attractive for an asshole, he was rich, and from what Damara and Aranea had told her, he wasn't too bad in bed.

But there was the car thing. She did _not_ want to be the one picking him up and driving him around. That would be a deal-breaker. "Hey, doo _fish_ , when are you plannin' on not bummin' rides from Makara _anemone_ more?"

Cronus raised an eyebrow, still smirking. "Who said I'm still bummin' a ride from him, darlin'? I got a set a' wheels over the summer."

"Oh, _reel_ ly? What did you get?"

Cronus's smirk widened. "Oh, a New Yorker. Convertible. A '54, but still."

"Oh, shit, man, is it that New Yorker with the out _ray_ geous purple paint job?"

He straightened up and smoothed his hair back. "Yeah, that's her. You saw her?"

"Yeah, next to Makara's piece of shit," she laughed, but inside, she was relieved. _Not bad._ Now that that last little detail had been cleared up, she was feeling better about the prospect of going with him.

"Can you quit it with the flirting and deal again?" Damara said lightly, winding a few strands of her long, dark hair around her fingers. "I kind of want to get back on kicking their asses."

Meenah would have given her hell for even insinuating she was flirting with the likes of Cronus Ampora, except she was. She also felt like wringing as much money as possible from him and watching him practically start to salivate from being dominated.

Drunk Cronus was actually a lot of fun to be around, she reflected. She let him cut the deck this time since he'd lost the last hand, and then she began dealing again.


	5. Chapter 5

Kankri didn't like the idea of having a different lunch hour than Karkat, but that was how most of the junior and senior class schedules were set up, with lunch after the freshmen and sophomores. The only good thing about it was that Porrim Maryam, whose father was good friends with Kankri's father, had decided to take him under her proverbial wing and watch out for him, at least until he found his niche. That meant that the moment he wandered into the cafeteria, she was sprinting over to him with her own tray.

"Kankri! There you are! I've been looking for you all morning!"

He knew they probably wouldn't have any classes together since she was a senior—except for debate, but she'd apparently taken that class the year before—but it was still nice to know that someone had been keeping an eye out for him. "I'm afraid I had some difficulties this morning. Karkat insisted on taking a side entrance into the building and we couldn't find the office until homeroom had already started and then there were these _greasers_ who ran through the hallways like wild animals and—"

"Greasers? You mean the Lost Boys?"

"I believe that was what was emblazoned on their jackets, yes."

Porrim let out a resigned sort of laugh. "They're a real trip. They're not as bad as they look, trust me—just don't piss them off. Come on, let's go eat outside. Being seen surrounded by cheerleaders will only help your social standing, trust me."

"Tell me," Kankri said, following her out of a side door of the cafeteria. "Is it... _allowed_ for students to dye unnatural colors into their hair?"

"What, you mean like Rufioh? The guy with the red in his hair," she added at his confused expression.

"Yes, like him."

"Well... technically, it's frowned upon, but there's nothing in the student handbook expressly forbidding it. Honestly, I think the teachers have given up trying to discipline the four of them—him and the other Lost Boys—but I promise, they're really not that bad. Well, maybe Cronus is. He likes to bully some of the underclassmen. The one, he's a sophomore now, Mituna Captor, seems to be his favorite target, although..." She readjusted her tray in her hands so she could toss a few strands of hair back from her face. They were striding toward the football field, where Kankri could already see a knot of girls sitting in the grass by the bleachers. "I can kind of understand why Mituna gets it. He's kind of a spaz," she added with a giggle.

"I see. Which one is Cronus? I'll make it a point to avoid him if possible."

"He's... oh, over there, see him? The one in the black jacket with his hair slicked back?"

Kankri followed her line of sight to the four guys lounging near the parking lot, leather jackets on. They made quite a picture, and his stomach clenched in fear. He saw immediately which one she was referring to, of course, but he noted also that all of them had brown bottles in their hands, bottles that looked distinctly like beer bottles. "Are... are they _drinking_?"

"Hmm? Oh, probably. Those two—Cronus and the bigger one with the really messy hair, his name is Kurloz—they're eighteen, so they can technically drink as long as the school doesn't catch them. I know for a fact that Rufioh doesn't turn eighteen for a few more months and Gamzee, the other one, is a junior so he's only like sixteen or something, so they shouldn't be, but..." She sighed. "Like I said, the school's basically given up on them. If they get caught, they'll get in a lot of trouble, but no one's gonna rat them out." She turned around. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the girls."

Kankri sat down with his back to the parking lot, feeling incredibly out of his element. He hadn't associated with cheerleaders at his old school since they had flirted way too much and earned his father's ire, but the ones here weren't so bad. They were actually pretty nice to him, which surprised him. It was probably through Porrim's influence, though.

All in all, though, it was rather nice to sit there with the sun shining down on him and just listen while the girls discussed their new teachers and their classmates and the football team's chances to make it to the state championship (not great, but better than last year) and how the baseball team was doing (one player, a sophomore named Zahhak, was apparently a powerhouse batter as well as an outstanding third baseman) and who had gotten a car over the summer and plans for after the first pep rally of the year that Friday night. Kankri wondered idly if his parents would object to him going to it—he had never been exactly interested in sports teams at his old school, but it also hadn't been very heavily emphasized at his old school. Here, it seemed like a bigger deal, and if he were going to fit in, it would behoove him to attend. Besides that, he was going to try to make more friends at this school. He would make the best of a frankly infuriating situation.

The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably and he got the impression that he was being watched. He continued eating, trying to ignore it, and wrapped one arm around himself. He didn't need the extra warmth—his sweater was more than sufficient for that—but it lent a bit of comfort to him. He resisted the urge to twist around to see if anyone was actually watching him. The only ones behind him were the greasers, anyway, and he really didn't like the idea of making eye contact with any of them, but that Cronus guy especially.

"So, Kankri, where are you from?" one of the cheerleaders asked, smiling at him. He didn't remember her name or if Porrim had even introduced any of them to him, but she had distinctly catlike features, and her skirt was an olive-green color with a little cat's face embroidered onto it. Her hair was long, light brown, and curly, cascading down her shoulders in waves. On a chain around her neck was someone's class ring—she was someone's girlfriend. He wondered idly who her boyfriend was.

"Louisiana. My family and I moved up here over the summer."

"You don't sound like you're from Louisiana."

"You mean my lack of an accent?"

"Yeah. I thought southern people all sounded like..."

"Dirk Strider?" Porrim said with a laugh.

"Who?"

Porrim smiled and shook her head, ruffling his hair. "It's okay, Kankri. You'll figure it out eventually. Dirk is a senior. Blond hair, always wears sunglasses. So does his brother Dave. They both have these crazy southern accents, too."

"Oh. Well, actually, most people from Louisiana don't have southern accents, unless they're from the bayou area—"

Porrim giggled again. "You had it there for just a second."

Kankri felt his cheeks flushing and contemplated hiding his face in his sweater. "Anyway..."

"Oh, it's cute," the other cheerleader said with a comforting smile. "So why did you move here?"

"My father... he was transferred," he said finally, deciding that the watered-down explanation was the simplest.

"You miss Louisiana?"

"A little. Starting over at a new high school for my junior year isn't the most ideal of circumstances, and while I'm certain some people would benefit from and even enjoy that kind of opportunity, it isn't what I wanted. I wasn't very popular at my previous school, either, so I'm afraid that the proverbial cards are already stacked against me, not that I play cards, because—"

Porrim put her hand over his mouth. "Okay, you got quite a mouth on you, don't you?" She was grinning, taking away some of the sting from her words.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm aware that I also have a tendency to ramble, which obviously led to my inability to make friends at my old school."

She laughed, shaking her head. "That's understandable. How about I just poke you when you're starting to talk too much?"

He considered it. His "word vomit" (as Karkat had so affectionately dubbed it last year) was rooted in his personality, but maybe, for the time being, it would be better for him to curb his habits, at least until he became generally accepted. "Alright. That sounds agreeable."

* * *

"Who the hell is that?" Cronus asked.

"Who's who?" Rufioh spun around wildly, nearly spilling his beer in the process, until Cronus grabbed him by the jacket and straightened him out.

"That guy. Over there with the cheerleaders. The cat in the red sweater."

Kurloz paused from where he was juggling apples and looked over. "Never motherfucking seen him before. Freshman?"

"Can't be. He's got lunch right now an' they _never_ give freshmen second lunch," Cronus pointed out. "Sophomores, maybe, but not freshmen."

"So maybe he's a sophomore. Or he could be a junior. Gamzee, you seen him in any of your classes?"

Gamzee was sitting on the pavement. Up until about twenty seconds before, he'd been watching his brother's juggling and laughing at it. Now, he scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. He was in my motherfucking homeroom. He motherfucking wandered in later than me."

"Wait, wait, wait. I think I recognize that cat. He was in the hallway when we were heading to homeroom, remember? Yeah, that was him—I recognize that sweater a' his," Cronus laughed.

"So he's a junior," Rufioh said.

They were all quiet for a moment until Cronus remembered where he'd been going with his first question. "Okay, so why the fuck is he hangin' out with the fuckin' cheerleaders? They don't talk to anyone but the jocks, an' he don't look very athletically-minded."

"Porrim fucked you," Kurloz pointed out.

"Yeah, _an_ '? That doesn't mean anythin'. I never actually hung out with her, an' she fucked half the school anyway."

"Well, shit, I got no idea why a new kid is hangin' out with some of the most snotty, stuck-up chicks at school," Rufioh said with an exaggerated shrug. "But maybe he _is_ fuckin' one of them."

Cronus gave an undignified snort of laughter. "He looks like a total nerd! If he's fuckin' one of them, I'll sell my fuckin' car."

Rufioh shrugged again and took a bite of his turkey sandwich. "Hey, thanks for lunch, man."

"Don't mention it. It's no big deal." Cronus raised his bottle of beer to his lips. It was his second of the afternoon—his buzz had worn off halfway through science class and he'd been able to earn back the money he'd lost to Meenah, but even tipsy, he'd noticed the way she seemed to be warming up to him. Especially after finding out he had a car—she'd gotten _very_ friendly after that. Not that he was complaining in the slightest, of course. He could play it cool for a few more days and make his move on Friday at the pep rally. He'd ask her out for a slice of pizza or something, and hopefully she'd say yes.

But that led him to his other pet project—hooking Rufioh up. He didn't care so much about trying to get Kurloz or Gamzee laid because frankly, they were both total messes. He didn't envy the chicks that ended up with them, at least right now. Strip away their leather jackets and they were burnouts. No, even dirt-poor as he was, Rufioh had a far better chance than either of them. "Hey, Rufi, who do you got your eye on this year?"

"What, you mean like, who do I wanna go with?"

"Yeah."

He tilted his head and took a swig of his beer. "I don't really know. You're going after Meenah, right?"

Cronus hadn't expressly said anything about it. He'd either been way more obvious than he thought or Rufioh was just really perceptive. "Yeah, you could tell?"

Rufioh grinned. "You weren't exactly being subtle."

"Shut up." Cronus shoved him playfully, and Rufioh nearly slid off the hood of Cronus's car laughing.

"Alright, man, well, she's not really my type anyway, so you don't gotta worry about me moving in on her. She's kind of a bitch," he added.

He was right about that, but she was still Cronus's type. "Like you could compete with me anyway," he joked.

"It wouldn't be any contest at all, really. Completely unfair. If I really wanted her, there'd be no way she'd go out with your ass," Rufioh shot back.

"You're cruisin' for a bruisin'." He may have been right, though. If Rufioh's family was as rich as his, it was entirely possible that Rufioh would have better luck than him. Cronus wasn't about to admit that, though.

"I'm just kidding, man. I don't know, I hadn't really thought about it that much. I don't really think there's any girls here who _are_ my type."

"Okay, then what's your type?"

"I don't know," Rufioh said, shrugging. "I'll know her when I see her, I guess."

"What about Damara?" Cronus had noticed that, too. She'd practically been drooling all over him—Cronus was sure she'd say yes to him.

"Damara?" He furrowed his brows. "I don't know—is she even into me?"

Cronus nearly burst out laughing. "To say that she's into you would be an understatement. She was flirtin' with you all the way through science class, trust me. Although you callin' her 'doll' every other sentence probably didn't help, either."

"I call every girl 'doll,' though."

He shrugged. "I call them like I see them, man. She likes you."

"Hmm. She _is_ pretty cute," Rufioh admitted. He glanced at Kurloz and Gamzee. The elder Makara had gone back to juggling the apples they'd all gotten for lunch, but Gamzee was juggling now, too. He was tossing three empty bottles in the air, slowly backing up onto the grass in case he dropped one. "These fucking clowns," he said with a fond smile.

"Sometimes I wonder how it came to this," Cronus joked.

But he knew full well how they'd ended up as friends. Freshman year, Kurloz hadn't been nearly as much of a stoner as he was now. He'd been a bit of a weird one, true enough, but he was cool. The three of them had ended up in the same history class, and for their whole freshman year, they'd been the terrible trio. The next year, when Gamzee was a freshman, they'd assimilated him into their group easily. The Makaras were both good for laughs, though, even now. Even though they could be jackasses at times, they weren't bad guys.

"So." Rufioh flipped up the collar of his jacket. "You really think Damara would say yes if I asked her out?"

"Oh, hell, yeah! Look, Friday night, I'm gonna ask Meenah out for pizza. If you asked Damara out, you guys could join us an' we could double-date. The girls would probably like that."

Rufioh nodded slowly. "Hmm. That's a good idea. I'll ask her then."

"Good." Cronus finished off his bottle and tossed it onto the grass. He twisted around to grab his own sandwich off the hood of his car, looked back at Red Sweater, and wondered once again who he was and, moreover, why he was already so friendly with the cheerleaders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssssst, if anyone didn't know, you can find me on tumblr at eridayumampora.tumblr.com!


	6. Chapter 6

When Rose Lalonde wandered into Home Economics, the last thing she expected to see was a man sitting behind the desk. Her schedule had only listed her teacher as _Egbert_ , but men simply didn't teach Home Ec. It was a girls' class, after all. Boys took Auto Shop or Wood Shop while girls took Home Economics. _How odd._

She took a seat at one of the tables as more people shuffled in—including a boy, Rose noted with some surprise. This was going to be a very interesting semester.

The teacher looked up as a girl with short dark hair and oval glasses walked past him. She waved excitedly. "Hi, Uncle—" She stopped when the teacher shook his head once with a small smile.

"It's 'Mr. Egbert' in the classroom, Jane."

Her grin widened and she flashed him a thumbs-up. "You got it, _Mr. Egbert_!"

Rose raised an eyebrow.

The classroom filled up, the second bell rang, and Egbert stood up. He was dressed crisply, in a long-sleeved white dress shirt, white pants, and a black necktie. Rose amused herself for a moment with the image of him wearing a floral-print apron during one of the cooking segments.

"Good afternoon, class. My name is Mr. Egbert, and I will be your instructor for this course. Now, it looks like everyone's here, but..." He cracked another small smile. "I should probably call roll to learn everyone's names." He took a list off his desk and started rattling off names. When he got to _Crocker_ , the girl Jane, his niece apparently, chirped, "Here!"

Jane had joined Rose at her table, along with the lone boy and another girl with short hair and a red skirt. They all looked friendly enough, although she didn't really know what to make of _him_. What sort of boy took Home Economics?

Then again, that begged the question, what sort of man _taught_ Home Economics?

Rose was the next one at their table to be called. After _Linwood_ , he called _Maryam_ , and the other girl raised her hand. "Present." Two students later, he reached _Nitram_ , and the boy tentatively said, "Uh, here?"

A couple of girls at another table giggled. The boy went red and hid his face, and Rose felt bad for him. He was probably going to get teased for taking Home Ec, after all. _What does it matter?_ she asked herself. So what if a boy wanted to take Home Economics? Now that she thought about it, it was kind of admirable. He wouldn't have to rely on someone else to cook and clean for him or anything like that. Not many boys would willingly take on that responsibility.

Once Mr. Egbert finished roll call, he put away his class roster and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk. "So who wants to tell me what they think Home Economics is about?"

Jane's hand shot up and a wry smile crossed his face briefly.

"Anyone besides Jane?"

No one else raised their hand.

"Okay, Jane. What's Home Ec about?"

"Sustaining a happy household."

He tilted his head to the side. "In the most generic terms, yes, you're right. But I was looking for a bit more specific."

This time, Jane didn't have an answer.

"Specifically, this class will teach you how to bake and cook and clean, how to do laundry, how to sew, how to manage household finances. Or, as I like to say, it'll teach you self-sufficiency. If you can do all these things, you won't need to rely on other people to help you—and I'm especially glad you're taking this class, Mr. Nitram. Not many high school boys realize it would be smart for them to know this sort of thing, too. I firmly believe that this class is not just for girls, or else I wouldn't be teaching it." He paused for a moment. "Besides, life happens. Circumstances change. Just because you may have someone now who can do all those things doesn't mean you always will."

_Well,_ that _was morbid._ But he was right about that. Rose knew perfectly well that you couldn't always rely on someone to do the basic things for you. Even in her own family, her mother was an alcoholic and probably hadn't cooked a meal in twenty years. Her sister Roxy was heading down that same path of alcohol abuse at eighteen. Rose was determined not to end up like either of them.

She didn't have to worry about being fed because her mother was rich enough to afford a cook and a maid, but neither of _them_ were about to teach Rose the basics of doing laundry.

Mr. Egbert went on, continuing to tell them about what the course would cover, but Rose became distracted when the girl on her right (she didn't know her first name, just that her last name was Maryam) began digging around in her bag. After a moment, she pulled out a notebook and a pen. Rose barely had time to register _Kanaya M._ on the front cover of the notebook before the girl flipped it open and began writing in a loopy, ridiculously large script. Rose couldn't resist turning her head slightly to get a better look.

It almost looked like calligraphy. How had she learned how to do that? It didn't even look like someone's actual handwriting. Who wrote like that? How was that even possible?

Kanaya's hand paused and then set down the pen. Rose blinked and looked up. Kanaya was looking right at her, and for once, Rose couldn't discern the expression she wore.

"Excuse me," Kanaya said crisply.

"Hi, I'm Rose."

"Kanaya."

"Sorry, I just... your handwriting is incredible."

"Oh, is _that_ what you were staring at?" Kanaya asked, a small smile appearing on her face.

That polite little smile had Rose smiling back automatically.

"Yeah, sorry. I guess that was a little odd, wasn't it?"

"Perhaps a little." Kanaya was still smiling, so Rose could tell she wasn't too upset about it, but she started to feel slightly self-conscious. It wasn't often she was caught off her guard like that.

The boy later hesitantly introduced himself as Tavros. Rose wasn't sure how well he'd do in the class—he looked like he was ready to bolt at any moment—but Jane actually seemed to have a handle on what the class would entail, which made sense, considering she was the teacher's niece. They would all probably benefit from Jane's presence in their group.

Kanaya, she knew, was a sophomore. Rose remembered seeing her at lunch—the same with Tavros. Jane, on the other hand... Rose didn't know about her. She didn't look old enough to be a senior, so she was probably a junior. She looked nice enough, though.

There was a small sound of ripping paper and then Rose felt something sliding against her elbow. She glanced down just in time to see Kanaya's hand pulling away from her and a small piece of folded-up paper against her arm. She unfolded it and read that now-familiar script from earlier. _Are You Planning On Going To The Pep Rally This Weekend?_

Rose smiled and pulled out her own pen. _I hadn't really thought about it. I might go. It depends on if I can get a ride._ She slid the paper back to Kanaya.

The other girl read it over, twirling a lock of hair through her fingers before writing her response and sending it back. _My Sister Is A Cheerleader, So She Will Need To Be There. I Will Be Going As Well. Perhaps We Could Provide Transportation?_

She realized she liked that idea a lot. She didn't have many friends—not because she was unlikeable, but because she generally kept more to herself—but Kanaya seemed to be intelligent thus far and nice to boot. _Okay. I'm sure my mother won't mind at all._

When Kanaya read her answer, Rose was sure she saw an excited smile before it disappeared to be replaced by a neutral expression.

* * *

One class Eridan was sure he was going to be thankful for this year was seventh-hour Theater Arts. Even after the teacher explained what they'd be doing during the class, he had a feeling it was going to be an incredibly easy course. It would be fun, too, of course, but it wouldn't take much effort and it would be just what he needed for his last class of the day, a welcome reprieve from the utter bullshit of his sixth-hour American Literature class. On top of that, he knew one of the other kids in his class already, another sophomore named Feferi Peixes. They'd had their Algebra class together the year before and talked a little bit—somehow, they'd discovered a mutual love of aquariums—but they'd never actually spent any time together outside of school. Maybe this year they could change that. He made a mental note to find out if she was going to the pep rally that Friday.

The two of them naturally gravitated toward each other at the beginning of class, as two people who half-knew each other in a class of strangers tended to do. It was awkward at first—seconds before the bell signaling the start of class and they stood there in the middle of the auditorium, staring at each other, Eridan shuffling his feet. Her skirt was light blue and sea-green by turns, her shirt was black, and her hair was dark brown and long with her bangs pinned back behind her head to look like a crown or tiara. She looked really nice and it made him a little nervous, but he cleared his throat anyway. "Hey, Fef. You wanna sit with me?"

She smiled brightly, reassuring him. "Sure, Eridan! How was your summer?"

"Not long enough." He led the way to a row near the front and looked back at her. "Is here okay?"

"It's just fine. I know what you mean about summer being too short, though. I don't get nearly enough time to swim _anemone_ more."

He couldn't help but grin at her pun as he sat down in a seat in the middle of the row. "You got a pool at your house, right?" he asked. He seemed to recall her mentioning it the year before.

She sat down next to him and smoothed out her skirt; distantly, he heard the second bell ring. "Yep! But I joined the swim team, too, so once practice starts up, I'll be happier."

_That_ surprised him. "The swim team? I didn't think there were any girls on the swim team."

" _Whale_ , there's one now! Once I tried out for the team, they practically begged me to join, too!"

He chuckled. "So you're faster than you look, I guess."

"Yep! My parents say sometimes that I'm half-mermaid or something." She grinned and shrugged. "I just really like to swim, though."

"So I take it you're goin' to the pep rally on Friday night?"

"Yeah, I pretty much have to now!"

They were forced to discontinue their conversation when their teacher stood up and began talking, but it was enough for Eridan. In his mind, he'd already been cemented as one of her friends for the year, and not being alone right now was a comforting thought.

When the bell for dismissal finally rang, both he and Feferi jumped out of their seats and nearly sprinted out of the auditorium right behind the rest of the class. It had been a really long school day and Eridan was definitely looking forward to going home, but he figured he'd be nice and walk her to her car or something. He vaguely remembered that she had an older sister, although he wasn't sure if his mind was just inventing things.

"How are you gettin' home?" he asked.

"My sister Meenah. She's going to be driving me and her friends Aranea and Vriska to school every day this year, it looks like."

Eridan half-chuckled in solidarity and nodded. "Yeah, my brother's kinda like the chauffeur right now since he has to drive me an' his friend Rufioh an' Rufi's brother Tav. I know the feeling."

"Squished in the back, right?"

"Yeah, I don't get front-seat rights anymore." They stepped out into the parking lot and Eridan swung his head in the direction of where he'd seen Cronus's car during lunch. Kurloz, Gamzee, Rufioh, and Tavros were all hanging out around there, leaning up against Cronus's car or Kurloz's car, but Cronus himself was nowhere to be found.

"Who's that?" Feferi asked abruptly, drawing his attention in the other direction.

There was Cronus, half-sitting on the hood of fuchsia-colored Chrysler and talking to a girl with long, dark braids and pink glasses similar to Feferi's. Actually, now that he was looking, she bore a striking resemblance to Feferi in just about every other regard, too. "Is that your sister Meenah?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I can't figure out who that guy is. I know he's a tool, but..."

"That's a pretty accurate assessment," he said with a laugh. "That's my brother Cronus."

She looked stunned for a moment before it melted away. "Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot your last name was Ampora. It didn't even occur to me that it was the same last name, either."

"Don't worry about it." Now that he was looking, though, he wondered what Cronus was doing over there anyway. "Might as well go over there, right?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

They continued on to Meenah's car. Cronus sensed their approach and turned to look at them, surprise dawning on his face. "Hey, little monster. What are you doin' here?"

"Just seein' Fef to her car. I didn't know you two knew each other," Eridan added, gesturing from Cronus to Meenah.

Both of them grinned and he suddenly realized what was going on with them. He recognized it from last year. His brother was interested in Meenah, and he didn't know why, but the thought worried him a bit. He knew her by reputation and he knew the only way this would end was badly. Before he said anything, though, he decided against it. Cronus was eighteen now. He could do what he wanted. It wasn't going to affect his life in any way.

"We got science class together," Cronus explained, fishing a cigarette out of the box and sticking it in his mouth. "By the way, never _ever_ play poker against her. She'll kick your ass."

Meenah's smirk widened and she bowed. "Compared to you, _anemone_ one would look like a champ."

Cronus groaned and pretended to fall over, clutching his heart. "Damn, you cut me real deep there."

"Meenah, what's with the trash on your car?" another voice asked, and they all turned toward it to see a girl with short dark hair, blue glasses, and a blue dress with a bright-pink jacket over her shoulders. She was glaring right at the elder Ampora.

"Meenah, what's with the spider-bitch?" Cronus shot back.

"Could you two can it with the drama for ten _glubbing_ seconds?" Meenah snapped. "Stop antagonizin' each other. Cronus, I'll see you later. You're sure about Rufioh?"

"Positive. Come on, little monster, let's go home."

Eridan barely got time to say goodbye to Feferi before his brother was dragging him toward his car.


	7. Chapter 7

Dinner was a quiet affair. The Reverend Karter Vantas had returned from the hospital, and after a brief but holy blessing over their food, they began eating.

No one was allowed to speak during dinner unless Karter addressed them first—his wife included. As such, dinner was almost always silent, save for the clatter of silverware. Sometimes, Kankri was grateful for the peace, but tonight, just once, he wished his father would at least ask him and Karkat how their first day of school had been.

But that was too much to hope for. Karter Vantas was a fairly quiet man until he was at his pulpit—then he seemed possessed by some oratory spirit, filling him with holy words that poured forth to light his congregation aflame with the Lord. Kankri respected him for that, but it was difficult not to wish sometimes that they could be a normal family.

Once in awhile, Karkat would look up at him from his plate and they'd exchange glances. It wasn't often that the two of them agreed on anything, but Kankri could tell that his brother was bursting to say something. He would chew on the inside of his cheek and peek up at their parents from time to time, and once or twice he would even open his mouth to say something—Kankri hoped he didn't because it would be a sure way to infuriate their father—but Karkat evidently thought better of it at the last second and put another bite of chicken in his mouth.

After dinner was finished and all the dishes were cleared away, Kankri went back to his room. He didn't know what he was going to do for the rest of the evening—he didn't have any homework to do and still no friends to hang out with. He doubted Porrim would be paying a visit anytime soon, either. She had plenty of other friends to hang out with, after all. She wouldn't want to spend time with a preacher's son.

He tugged off his sweater and tossed it into his dirty clothes hamper. He flopped onto his bed and closed his eyes without falling asleep. He supposed he could have read or cracked one of his textbooks to get a jump on anything for school, but he didn't feel like it. It wasn't often that he was taken restless, but tonight, for some reason, he was. Maybe it was finally being finished with his first day at Lakeside that had him wandering to his window and opening it.

It was getting dark already. He didn't notice how much time had already passed, but it was close to eight. Music on the breeze floated into his room through another open window somewhere else in the neighborhood, some happy love song from just a year or two ago. He ran his fingers through his hair, resting his elbows on the windowsill, and wondered if this was how you were supposed to feel at sixteen. His birthday had only been six short weeks ago, the middle of July, but he hadn't really _felt_ sixteen until just now.

" _If I give my heart to you, will you handle it with care?"_

Kankri hopped up onto the windowsill, sliding the window open higher and locking it open. He vaguely seemed to recall hearing this song before, maybe a snippet of it when his mother changed the radio stations as they traveled up to Ohio. The frequencies would change as they crossed county and state lines, but she had a knack for tuning the radio.

" _Will you always treat me tenderly and in every way be fair?"_

It was the kind of sappy love song his father would scoff at. He would make Kankri's mother change stations to something "less frivolous," but Kankri had rather enjoyed the stations that played music and not just talking.

" _If I give my heart to you, will you give me all your love?"_

He wondered how it would feel to be in love. He couldn't even imagine the sort of girl he'd fall in love with, but he hoped she would feel the same way as him. His father had a tendency to say that romantic love was fleeting, that the only love that lasted was the love God had for his people, but Kankri privately thought that was nonsense. After all, Karter had married his mother, hadn't he? They'd been married for seventeen years on Christmas day this year—surely he didn't think that way about his wife.

" _Will you swear that you'll be true to me by the light that shines above?"_

He found his thoughts drifting, wondering what his parents had been like when they first met, wondering how they'd fallen in love. Didn't it take a special kind of love to marry someone? He didn't believe that his father really thought the love between him and Kankri's mother was fleeting. That didn't make sense.

" _And will you sigh with me when I'm sad? Smile with me when I'm glad?"_

A car roared by with its windows rolled down, cutting through Kankri's thoughts. He heard laughter from within mingling with more music, and he saw the distinct glow of cigarettes. He couldn't tell how many people were in the car, but he shook his head, half-smiling. He didn't know why, but he wished he was out there right now, doing _something—_ he didn't know what.

" _And always be as you are with me tonight?"_

The car disappeared from sight and hearing, leaving only the lingering sensation of unease, of missed opportunities, of a chance that was fast slipping away. He sighed, staring after it, wondering if it was something about tonight that made him feel like he was on the verge of something important or if it was just his imagination—or maybe it was a feeling that would stay with him.

" _Think it over and be sure, please don't answer 'til you do."_

Another window slid open somewhere, but he barely noticed it. He hopped off the windowsill and crossed his room to flick off the light. It was still fairly early and he didn't have any desire to go to sleep, but he certainly wasn't about to go into the living room just to watch his mother sewing or hear his father hammering out his sermon for Sunday. Karter would look up at him and make some comment on idleness, and Kankri really didn't want to hear it right now.

" _When you promise all those things to me, then I'll give my heart to you."_

He heard a faint thud, and _that_ he noticed. It seemed to come from outside, so he slunk back to the window to look.

" _And will you sigh with me when I'm sad? Smile with me when I'm glad?"_

There was a figure out there in the tiny backyard. He picked himself up off the ground and brushed off his pants before turning, and Kankri caught sight of his face. It was Karkat.

" _And always be as you are with me tonight?"_

His younger brother's eyes widened in surprise and he put a finger to his lips in a silent plea. _Where is he going?_ Kankri wondered wildly, but he didn't dare call out to him from the window. That was a sure way to attract their parents' attention, and he had no intention of doing that, either.

" _Think it over and be sure, please don't answer 'til you do."_

Kankri nodded once, quickly, and the silhouette of Karkat's shoulders slumped in relief. He spared a second to wave before dashing out of the backyard, hopping the fence to the sidewalk, and tearing away from the house. He'd evidently made friends today, far sooner than Kankri had, and he couldn't help envying his younger brother for having some place to sneak out to tonight.

" _When you promise all those things to me, then I'll give my heart to you."_

Kankri dropped his window almost completely, leaving it cracked an inch. He wouldn't tell his father that Karkat had gone out secretly. Perhaps that was the way it was supposed to be, anyway—Karkat had always been the more rebellious of them.

He went to his desk as the music from outside faded away into nothing and pulled out a notebook and pencil from the drawer. For lack of anything better to do tonight, he could sketch at least, even with his light off.

At least then, he wouldn't have to see how bad it looked.

* * *

His dad usually passed out drunk around eight-thirty, and after that, he couldn't be roused until sunrise—not that Rufioh planned to wake him anyway. He'd made that mistake just once, eleven years ago. The result was so terrifying that it stuck with him for good.

Once he was sure he heard his dad's snores from the living room sofa, he crept to Tavros's room to make sure he didn't need anything and then slunk outside through the front door. He probably didn't need to tiptoe—his father was notorious for what he could sleep through—but he also didn't want to risk anything. But once the front door closed behind him, he swung his jacket over his shoulders and strolled down the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. Cronus and the rest of the Lost Boys would be heading to the Freeze King for burgers and shakes. Kurloz would have swung by Cronus's house with Gamzee in tow, but they would know better than to try to pick up Rufioh. They knew by now that it was just asking for trouble.

As the barking of the Nitram family bulldogs faded behind him, he felt his shoulders slumping. He pulled out a cigarette, struck a match, and let the nicotine pour into his lungs. He liked walking anyway. It gave him a chance to clear his head, gave him a reprieve into some much-needed isolation. Not that he didn't love Tavros—he really did; he'd do anything for his brother—but he couldn't talk to him. Not about anything that really mattered anymore, anyway. There was so much he couldn't talk to him about. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Cronus was his best friend, and he couldn't even talk to him anymore. It hurt and he wished he could talk to _someone_ , but no one would understand. All he could do was pretend everything was alright and hope for the best.

It was Cronus's car that was in front of the Freeze King tonight, not Kurloz's. He supposed it shouldn't have surprised him since Cronus would want to drive around, to show off his car. He peered through the windows of the restaurant and saw, sure enough, that all three of them were there. They had gotten a booth and were currently shooting straw wrappers at each other.

Rufioh smiled to himself and went inside, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground. The bell above the door rang, drawing the attention of half of the patrons, including his friends. Cronus turned around, caught sight of him, grinned, and waved him over. Rufioh tried to ignore the uptick to his heart rate as he waved back and went to join them.

Both of the Makaras had taken one side of the booth, allowing Rufioh to slide into the booth next to Cronus. "Hey, guys. You already order yet?"

"Yeah," Cronus said. "Hey." He kicked Gamzee underneath the table—the younger Makara was blowing bubbles in his soda. "Grow the fuck up, chief."

"Calm the motherfuck down," Gamzee said lazily, crossing his eyes at Cronus.

"Anyway, when the waitress comes back, you can order, too."

There was a reason Rufioh had eaten dinner back at home—he couldn't afford to eat out. He nodded quickly and picked up a menu and pretended to look it over until a balled-up napkin came flying at his head. He giggled and tossed it back at Kurloz, who nearly fell out of the booth laughing.

"You're a fuckin' dork," Rufioh laughed.

He managed to keep himself occupied until the waitress came back with Cronus's and Kurloz's burgers and fries and Gamzee's chicken fingers and fries. Then she glanced at Rufioh and smiled. "Hey, hon, what can I get you?"

Rufioh smiled to cover his sudden return of nerves and said, "Nothin', doll, I'm fine."

The next thing he knew, Cronus was leaning across him, pinning him to the seat between his arm and his body, sending a wave of delicious-smelling cologne over him. Rufioh inhaled surreptitiously, wishing Cronus's proximity didn't send his heart racing and his head spinning. _Stop it_ , his brain protested feebly, but he wanted nothing more than to shove Cronus against the seat and kiss him hard. _I'm a freak._

"Don't listen to him. Whatever he wants, put on my check," Cronus said with a smile of his own.

Damn him for being so goddamn _nice_. The Lost Boys were the only ones who ever got to see how chill Cronus could actually be. He gave off a "tough guy" image when other people were around, but when the four of them were in their own self-contained bubble, the act dropped.

The fact was, Rufioh had had a stupid, freakish crush on Cronus since the moment he laid eyes on him in freshman year. It wasn't just that he was dark and gorgeous with a self-assured swagger borne of money and style—although that had a lot to do with it. It was also the way he obviously cared about his friends, evidenced by the time he'd punched out a senior when they were sophomores for talking shit about Rufioh's family. If anything, though, it had only exacerbated his crush on Cronus. Sometimes, he wasn't convinced that he _didn't_ know how Rufioh felt about him, though, because it seemed like he was openly flirting with him, although other times—like earlier today—he wondered how he didn't know. Trying to set him up with Damara Megido... there was nothing _wrong_ with her, per se, but he just didn't like her. It was cool that she had a crush on him or whatever, but it was useless.

Cronus leaned back and affectionately smacked Rufioh on the shoulder. "So, whatcha want, chief?" Like that—it could have been a genuine flirtation. It almost seemed deliberate, and no matter how much Rufioh wished Cronus didn't affect him like that, he also half-enjoyed the way he felt whenever Cronus showed him any kind of attention. It was confusing. If Rufioh didn't know him, he would say he flirted with everyone, even him.

"Uh, can I get a double bacon cheeseburger with the works, an order of fries, and a cherry Coke?" He _had_ just eaten an hour or so before, but he was still incredibly hungry. It seemed like the only things he felt constantly were confused and hungry. It was an infuriating combination.

"Sure thing. Be right back, hon."

"Bangarang." He grinned at the waitress until she left the table, and then his smile dropped. "Thanks for that, man," he said to Cronus.

"Don't worry about it, chief. It's really no big deal," Cronus said, cuffing him on the shoulder again.

Rufioh forced a grin and slid his sunglasses on to hide half of his face. Neither of the Makaras would probably notice if his gaze lingered a little too long on Cronus, but Cronus himself probably would.

They couldn't know. They could never know—Cronus especially. They would hate him forever, more than he hated himself, and he hated himself a lot.

But Cronus didn't seem to notice right now and he kept cracking lame jokes and nudging Rufioh and, in general, unintentionally fanning the flames of Rufioh's attraction. He would laugh along with the Makaras, but inside, all he heard was a steady mantra of _I'm a freak, I'm a freak_.

And he was. He was a freak.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning saw Kankri and Karkat leaving the house fifteen minutes earlier than the day before. During breakfast, Kankri told his mother that they'd cut their arrival time very close the previous day and that it would be wiser for them to leave sooner. Karkat hadn't liked it much—he ended up missing breakfast completely—but when they got to school and Kankri brought him to the area by the bleachers where the cheerleaders hung out, they were rewarded with cupcakes.

Apparently, it was Porrim's eighteenth birthday, and a junior named Jane Crocker (who was not a cheerleader but quite obviously a school-wide baking guru) had been asked to make cupcakes for the occasion. Fortunately, she'd made about five dozen, far too many for the small gaggle of cheerleaders. This meant that by the time the first bell rang, Karkat's face was smeared with strawberry frosting and he'd shoved the wrappers of three cupcakes into his pockets. Kankri was satisfied with just one.

He hadn't known it was Porrim's birthday, though, and he wished that she'd told him. Then again, maybe it made sense that she hadn't. Were they actually friends? Or was she just being nice to him by hanging out with him?

He opted not to wear his red sweater today, since he'd just worn it the day before and wearing the same thing two days in a row, especially the first two days, was bound to attract negative attention. He did _not_ want to be known as "weird sweater guy" or some variant thereof. Instead, he wore a different pair of dress pants and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled all the way down.

The bell rang about five seconds after he took his seat in homeroom, and about five seconds after that, the door opened back up again and a late student wandered in and went to the back of the room. It all happened rather quickly, but terror flooded through Kankri all the same. He'd somehow managed to overlook this guy the day before, but there was no ignoring him now. It was—what did Porrim say his name was? Gamzee? That sounded about right—and his eyes were bloodshot when he strolled in, but his grin was wide, almost clownish, and he waved at the teacher, who just sighed and shook her head.

Kankri tried to look as small as possible as Gamzee passed by him.

The loudspeaker crackled to life with the four-note chime that Kankri had learned meant the morning announcements. Almost as one, his classmates slumped back in their seats and sighed. Yesterday's announcements had taken about five minutes, so he expected today's would be similar.

" _Good morning, students. Today is Tuesday, August 30, 1955._

" _This is just a reminder that Lakeside High's first pep rally will be this Friday. The bonfire will be lit at seven-thirty. Come and support Lakeside's athletics and enjoy a wonderful performance by our school's marching band and cheerleading squad._

" _The first football game of the season will be a home game on Saturday against the Jefferson High School Barracudas. Kickoff is at four o'clock, so be sure to arrive early to get good seats."_

He'd be going to the pep rally—or trying to, anyway—but he had no intention of going to the football game. Sports in general held little interest to him. Besides that, his father regarded athletics for their own sake to be a waste of time.

" _Nominations for student council president, vice president, secretary, treasurer, and representatives for sophomores, juniors, and seniors will be accepted next week during homeroom. Nominations for freshmen will be the following week, after you've all gotten a chance to know each other a little better."_

Well. _That_ was different. At his old school, the upperclassmen held their elections for the next year's student council before school let out for the summer so, once school started back up, only the freshmen had to elect their council. He raised his eyebrows and sat up a little straighter, his mind whirring. He'd been on the student council in both his freshman and sophomore years at his old school. Maybe he'd be able to make it this year, too.

Then again, he _had_ just started over at this school. He couldn't think of a single junior he actually _knew_ who would vote for him. He'd probably have better luck if he ran as a senior.

The principal—he still didn't know her name—went on, _"You can nominate yourself or others for any of the positions. Think carefully on who you'd like to represent you!_

" _Another reminder that tickets for the homecoming dance will be on sale starting next Monday during both lunches. Tickets will be five dollars per person, seven dollars per couple. Keep an eye out for homecoming committee members for more information!"_

Five dollars was ridiculously expensive. His parents would almost certainly not be willing to spend that kind of money on homecoming tickets, and he didn't have money of his own. His father regarded the whole process of homecoming to be frivolous, anyway, especially when neither he nor Karkat would really be "coming home." Karter Vantas, upon hearing that Kankri had wanted to go to homecoming his freshman year, had flat-out said, "Freshman don't go to homecoming." Kankri had almost argued but wisely decided against it at the last minute. It was useless to argue with his father.

He also didn't have anyone he could really go to the dance with, anyway, and he didn't relish the idea of going stag, so there was that.

The principal went on, but even Kankri, who had a fairly lengthy attention span, found his thoughts drifting. He glanced up at the clock, idly wondering when lunch was, and realized that announcements had been going on for six minutes now. He hoped it wouldn't be like this for the whole school year.

" _One final reminder to our older students: even if you are eighteen, the consumption of alcohol is expressly forbidden on school grounds. This rule applies at all times—at lunches, before school, after school—and during all school-related functions, including pep rallies and sporting events. Any student caught with alcohol on their person will be suspended for one week."_

Kankri couldn't help but smile to himself at that. It appeared he wasn't the only one to notice the greasers drinking the day before.

" _Happy eighteenth birthday to Porrim Maryam. Have a good day, students."_

Another four-note chime rang out, a reversal of the sequence from earlier, and the loudspeaker snapped off. There was silence for a few long moments before the teacher surveyed them all and said, "I hope you all caught that about alcohol on school grounds. Apparently, the janitorial staff last night saw several empty beer bottles on the grass near the parking lot. Everyone is encouraged to report it if they see students drinking on school property."

Kankri debated for a moment but decided not to say anything. Not this time, anyway. If he saw the greasers drinking on campus again, he'd report them, but he'd let it slide this time.

Homeroom let out a few minutes later and the crush of juniors joined the rest of the student body as everyone scrambled for their lockers and started juggling books. Kankri had one of the last lockers in the corridor, closest to the main hallway of the building, so he had a little more elbow room, but the lack of his sweater had somehow rendered him invisible and he found himself still being jostled by people passing by. _I might as well be a freshman again for how much attention people pay me._ He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but he suspected, if he was thinking of running for the student council, that it was probably bad. No one would vote for him if they didn't know who he was. What happened to yesterday, when he was "the preacher's son"? Was that over so fast?

He slammed his locker shut and hefted the books for his first two classes into his arms. The hallways were already starting to empty out, and he didn't want to be late on the second day.

* * *

She sat cross-legged at her desk, tilting her head to the side and surreptitiously peeking at the boy next to her. He was cute in a young-looking sort of way, with a delicate sort of nose. He squinted, though, giving him a perpetually-annoyed expression. Or maybe he just _was_ perpetually annoyed. It was possible. He'd grumbled under his breath a lot the day before.

She was careful not to let him see her looking at him, though. It would be embarrassing, of course—but he might also just be flat-out angry with her. She was sketching him, and it definitely wasn't great, but he might think it was meant to be insulting even though she didn't mean it to be insulting at all. She just found his face compelling.

She finished outlining his facial features and glanced back up for a better look at his eyes. She couldn't tell if they were gray or light blue—they probably varied based on lighting or something like that—but she settled on gray and shaded his eyes in with her pencil. His hair was messy, falling into his eyes, and she instinctively wanted to push it back.

The teacher began weaving between the desks, so she slid the drawing under her notebook and pretended to be taking notes. Fortunately, math had always come easy for her, so she wasn't too concerned with studying algebra. She had other things on her mind—like her sister trying to talk her into trying out for the cheerleading squad. She didn't have anything against being a cheerleader, but she didn't really want to give up a lot of her free after-school time to devote to learning cheers and waving pom-poms at football players. She was actually thinking about trying out for the winter play—she heard it was going to be _Macbeth—_ but she'd forgo it if she found that her workload was going to be too much.

By the time the class ended, she'd finished the sketch and glanced at his book just long enough to see that his first name was Karkat (she did seem to recall that he had an unusual name). She scrawled it across the top of the sketch as quickly as she could, wrote her initials and the date at the bottom, and tossed it onto his desk. Before he could react, she started gathering up her books and headed out the door, but she looked back just in time to catch him looking over the drawing with an actual smile on his face.

Nepeta smiled, too, and went back to her locker. She had PE next, so she didn't want to bring any books with her.

Boys and girls had PE together, which was different than her middle school. Even more strange to her was the fact that they threw together freshmen and sophomores in their PE classes as well, although apparently it wasn't required, only optional, for juniors and seniors. Still, she didn't really like the idea of having a class with sophomore boys.

They had five minutes after the second bell rang to be changed into their PE uniforms, so Nepeta scrambled into the Lakeside High School red-and-purple T-shirt and gym shorts and hurried out of the girls' locker room to the gymnasium floor as quickly as she could. A lot of boys were already lined up, dribbling a few basketballs on the court, although there was one who hadn't joined them. She slunk over to them and hunched down.

He glanced down at her briefly—he was at least eight inches taller than her—but didn't say anything. She met his gaze, grinned, and said, "Cat got your tongue?"

He furrowed his brows for a moment before a small smile broke across his face. "I was unaware we were having a conversation."

"We are _meow_!" she said, her obsessive love of cat puns showing itself. "Why aren't you playing with them? Are they all sophomores and you're a freshman?" she added as a few more boys wandered out of the boys' locker room and immediately went to the impromptu basketball game. He didn't really _look_ like a freshman, but that didn't mean much.

"No, I'm a sophomore. But as it happens, basketball is not my game. I have the height for it, true enough, but I never quite grasped the concept of dribbling." He watched the other boys—along with one of the girls, who had managed to swipe the basketball and was now dashing full-tilt down the court—and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So no sports at all?"

"I play baseball."

"You any good?"

He grinned. "I don't wish to brag, but I happen to be a phenomenal batter and an excellent third baseman."

"Then you better hope we'll be playing baseball today," Nepeta joked.

At that moment, the PE teacher blew his whistle, signaling the start of the actual class, and everyone began drifting toward where he stood. He led the class in warm-up stretches and then sent them running three laps around the gym, and the sophomore—Nepeta hadn't caught his name, which made her want to smack herself—immediately pulled to the front of the pack. He seemed to be nothing but legs when he ran, a blur of red and purple and the shock of black that was his long hair. He finished the circuits first, ten seconds before the next person, and barely seemed winded, although he was sweating profusely. Then the teacher ushered them all outside for their actual event for the day.

Soccer.

Nepeta didn't see the appeal of chasing a ball up and down a field for an hour—maybe that was why she didn't like football, either, which was basically the same thing but with far more contact. At least it was faster-paced than football.

She would have preferred to stay on the sidelines and draw, but when the teams were divided up, she was one of the first girls to be picked—by the sophomore, who she heard the PE teacher refer to as Equius. She didn't end up contributing much to the game since she got knocked over more times than she cared to count, but it was nice not to be chosen last for once.

Maybe she and Equius could be friends. He seemed nice enough, and baseball at least was one sport she could follow pretty easily. He seemed to like her, too, since he'd picked her to be on his team relatively early on while there were still other girls who had outrun her during their warm-up laps.

As they drifted back inside to change back into their regular clothes, she decided she'd talk to him more tomorrow. At the very least, Meulin would be glad to hear that she was starting to make friends.

Back in the locker room, there were already a few girls from the next class changing into their gym uniforms. The only one Nepeta really noticed was the one who'd picked the locker right next to hers, a girl maybe an inch taller than her with her long, dark waves pulled back in a high ponytail and her fuchsia-framed glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She flashed Nepeta a wide smile as she finished tying her shoes and scooted over on the bench to make room for her, and Nepeta smiled back, feeling shaky for reasons she couldn't quite figure out. She normally always knew what to say, but this time, she couldn't think of anything.

It wasn't until the other girl had sauntered out to the gym that Nepeta thought of something. _How are you?_ She thunked her forehead against the adjacent locker. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ She changed her clothes as quickly as she could, trying to shove the embarrassing encounter out of her mind, but she was only reminded once again as she left the locker room a few minutes later and saw the same girl. She waved and Nepeta waved back, but she still blushed as she left.

_I'll talk to her tomorrow, too. Maybe._


	9. Chapter 9

The bus bumped over the pockmarked road, but Roxy barely noticed a thing. She unscrewed the cap to her flask and took a surreptitious swig, ducking slightly behind the seat to avoid attention. For the next few weeks, school officials would be watching anyone suspected of drinking on school property, and sure, she wasn't technically _on_ school property anymore, but the bus still fell under school jurisdiction and it would be wise to keep her _little habit_ (as Roxy's own mother called it) a secret.

The Smirnoff burned her throat going down, but it was a good burn. She closed her eyes and smiled, leaning back in her seat. Her sister Rose was a few seats ahead of her, the clacking of her knitting needles drowned out by the cacophony in the bus, but she had her head down, so Roxy knew she could only be knitting right now. That was Rose's _little habit_ , her nigh-compulsive knitting, but at least it was nowhere near as destructive as Roxy secretly knew hers was.

Roxy frowned and took another swig out of her flask. She had a pretty good idea who it was who'd left those beer bottles on school property—she'd seen the brown bottles as she left the day before only a few feet away from Kurloz Makara's Mainline. She couldn't think of anyone besides the Lost Boys (herself excepted) who would be so brazen as to drink during lunch on school grounds. The problem was that the bottles had been found, and now the Boys had called down the microscopic gaze of the school administrators, as though kids hadn't always drunk on campus. The Lost Boys were adorable, and Cronus and Rufioh were attractive in that jaded, bad-boy kind of way, but they were idiots for leaving their damn bottles.

She was far better at covering her tracks—the vodka had little in terms of flavor or scent, unlike whiskey or her mother's gin, which made it easier to hide it. She didn't necessarily have to at home, considering her mother knew about her drinking and, in fact, practically condoned it, but at school was another matter. Everyone knew, too—Meenah and Aranea and Vriska and Damara, as well as anyone who spent more than ten minutes at a time with her. They all knew, but none of them saw it. As far as they knew, she was just always drunk naturally.

She took another swig as the bus slowed to a stop. People began gathering up their belongings, but Roxy stayed put. This wasn't her stop. There were still two more stops to go.

Rose cast a quick glance back at her, which she returned for a moment before shifting her attention out the window. It was still sweltering hot outside and probably would be for a few more weeks, but that suited her just fine. She far preferred warmer weather if it meant she wasn't forced outside to shiver. Besides, warm weather meant summer, no school, lounging by the pool and reading. It meant being able to stay home and not have to worry about impressing anyone. It meant not having to hear Meenah and Damara and Aranea giggle about the boys while Roxy pretended to giggle along with them.

And it wasn't that she didn't like boys—she liked them just fine. It was that, as far as relationships and actually going with them was concerned, she wasn't interested. When she cared to think about it (which wasn't often), she realized she didn't really like _anyone_ in that way, so she tried not to think about it and drank instead.

It wasn't the only reason she drank so much, but it was a reason.

When the bus finally rolled to a stop two blocks away from their house, Roxy finished off the last of the vodka and stashed the flask in her bag between her books. She got to her feet, picked up her bag, and started walking, digging her nails into the seats as she passed them to keep her steady. She was just a little tipsy right now, but that was because she only had a few ounces in her flask and it had to get her through the day. She once considered carrying a second flask, but she was a _lady_. Ladies didn't carry two flasks, especially not at school.

She'd refill her flask the moment she got home, put it in the refrigerator, and keep it there for tomorrow before making a double martini for herself and starting on her homework. That was what ladies did.

Rose was waiting a few feet from the bus when Roxy stepped off. "What I've gleaned from your step is that you're drunk again," she murmured, wrapping her arm around Roxy's waist. "I'm assuming your flask is empty, correct?"

"Cor- _rect_!" Roxy slurred back.

"Okay." Rose sighed. "Let's get you home."

Even half-drunk, Roxy could tell that her sister wanted to lecture her on her drinking, but she also knew that Rose wouldn't actually say anything. Rose had given her a lecture many times over the past three years, and only recently had she realized it was a waste of breath. After all, it was essentially two against one—with both Roxy and their mother compulsive drinkers, Rose just couldn't win. All she could do was damage control. She kept the household running and prevented Roxy and their mother from hurting themselves and stood silently by, unable to intervene.

Roxy actually pitied her for it sometimes, and the guilt was so strong, it made her reach for a bottle again.

_I'm the world's shittiest sister_ , she thought sadly, leaning against Rose and allowing the younger blonde to lead her home. _I should be taking care of her, not the other way around. What a goddamn mess._

She wondered if her mother ever thought the same thing. Sometimes, Roxy wanted to smash every bottle in their house just to force her mother to talk to her, so they could have an actual conversations as actual people instead of through a gin- and vodka-soaked haze. For the eighteen, nearly nineteen years Roxy had spent with her mother, they knew surprisingly little about each other. Every early memory Roxy had of the eldest Lalonde was of her mother being drunk—and whenever Roxy tried to call to mind even one single time when she wasn't, she came up blank.

Roxy rubbed her forehead and tried not to cry as Rose unlocked the front door and ushered her inside. It was dark with every single one of the curtains tugged over the windows, but Roxy could navigate these hallways blind as well as drunk. She didn't have the energy to go to her mother's personal bar right now, so she simply stumbled toward her room. She was tired and sad and all she really wanted to do was sleep for a few hours. After a nap, maybe she could start to function again.

* * *

_Crack!_

The bat made a good, solid sound as it connected with the ball, but even without looking, Equius knew it would be a foul ball. He could hear the difference between foul balls and home-run-worthy cracks, and this one was definitely the former. He'd been playing this game for a long time now. Nothing escaped his notice.

The next pitch was a strike—the third strike for number 52. He was new, though. He'd get the hang of it. He'd shown a lot of promise during tryouts, and he'd spend most of his first season on the bench, but maybe by his sophomore year, he'd be junior varsity.

"Zahhak!" his coach yelled. The coach had a way of slurring his last name, pronouncing it _Zack_ , that slightly irritated him. He and Horuss pronounced it carefully, enunciating the Hs as best they could because that was how their father pronounced it as well as the rest of their family all the way back as far as they could trace. Equius tried not to let his annoyance show on his face, though. Many people rushed over the letters.

He swung his bat from hand to hand as he approached home plate. He hoped number 52 was watching—he could improve his technique by watching Equius. It was no longer bragging to say that he was an exceptional baseball player, either. He was a sophomore and in the varsity string. Players didn't typically make varsity until their junior or senior year. He had a gift, though. He would have been varsity the year before, except "freshmen are not varsity material."

The pitcher shook his head slightly, waited, nodded. He and the catcher had decided on a pitch. Equius brought his bat up and held it carefully, sweat already beading up on his forehead. It was good, though. He felt sharp and strong, like a bow about to fire.

Quick as an arrow, the ball flew, and Equius assessed it in a half a second. A fastball, surely not the pitcher's strongest throw, but a powerful one nonetheless—except it was coming in too low, far too low. Equius hopped to the side lest the pitch hit him in the ribs.

"Hey, watch it, Marsten! You trying to kill my star batter?" Coach Diamonds barked.

Equius chuckled. True, it might have hurt him, but it would take far more than a pitch to kill him.

The next pitch was a curve ball, textbook perfect. Fortunately, Equius knew exactly how to counter it. He swung, relaxing his fingers just enough to slide his bat further out, and tightened his grip again just in time to connect with the ball.

_That_ was a powerhouse swing. The crack was earsplitting, and with all the muscle Equius put behind it, the ball went flying. He dropped his bat and ran for first base while the players on second and third scrambled for the next point. They didn't need to hurry, though—the ball was soaring over the outfielders' heads and beyond the fence. The center outfielder looked annoyed, but only because, right now, he was against Equius's team in the scrimmage.

He rounded the bases and got back to home plate, where he finally picked up the bat he'd dropped. _Whoops._ Apparently he'd put more muscle than he realized into his batting, because the bat had split. "Sorry, Coach," he said, carefully setting the now-broken bat behind the bench.

"Keep breaking bats like that," Diamonds said. "If it means we get hits like _that_ , break all the damn bats you want."

Equius grinned sheepishly and sat back down, feeling the purple number 10 digging into his back. It wasn't the first bat he'd broken at practice, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last. He'd broken more at games, though. He got in some amazing hits when he played the year before, and he'd only been "freshman fantastic." As a sophomore on varsity, he imagined he'd be playing nearly every game.

Diamonds blew his whistle, and the rest of the players on the field started walking toward the dugout. Practice was over, and now would come the inevitable pep talk. It was the kind of thing Equius normally paid rapt attention to, but his mind started to wander.

Horuss would be getting out of practice soon, too. He was a wrestler, also varsity, but as a senior, that wasn't a surprise. He'd lettered in wrestling ages ago, too, and he was exceptional at it. Horuss was only three inches taller than Equius, who at fifteen had already reached six feet tall, but Horuss was also wider, more bulky than his younger brother.

Once Diamonds dismissed them, Equius took a quick shower in the locker room and headed out to wait for Horuss by his brother's truck. It was originally their father's, but upon Horuss's sixteenth birthday, he'd given him the truck, and somehow, it fit him. Equius couldn't imagine his brother driving a different vehicle. In the intervening two years, Horuss had removed the engine twice and replaced half of truck's components—not because he needed to, but because he was a mechanical genius. He was taking Auto Shop this year even though he didn't need to because he simply wanted to work on more cars.

Equius was less mechanically-inclined when it came to cars, but he liked building other things. He just didn't have time. He was usually so busy with baseball—and track during the off-season—that he barely had time to do his homework at night. But it suited him just fine. His frantic schedule was able to distract him pretty well from the sad fact that he didn't really have any friends.

Horuss appeared a few minutes later, a towel draped around his neck. No one would mistake him and Equius for anything but brothers—they had the same dark skin and hair as well as the same eyes, although Horuss kept his hair much longer than Equius did, long enough for him to tie back. "How was practice?" he asked, tossing his bag in the bed of the truck.

Equius had long since done the same. "It was fine. I broke another bat during practice."

"You did? What did Diamonds say?"

Equius fished the bat out of the truck. "He let me keep it. He thought it was great. It was a home run."

Horuss raised an amused eyebrow. "I see. Well, then, you earned that bat. What do you plan to do with it?"

"I was going to present it to Father for his next birthday. I believe he will find the gift most heartfelt."

"You are quite right. That sounds like a most excellent gift. I applaud you."

Equius grinned and slid into the passenger's seat of the truck. "So how was your practice?"

"It went well. I was assigned a freshman wrestler to train on the finer points of certain holds since he didn't understand them."

"When is your next meet?"

"It's still a few weeks away, which is fortunate since most of the freshmen and the junior varsity string aren't ready yet. The summer has been difficult for them. I believe they forgot much of what they've learned." Horuss hadn't forgotten, though. He'd used Equius to practice all summer and Equius had dutifully gone along with it until he thought he could probably try out for the wrestling team himself.

Horuss started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. The cheerleaders were starting to head home as well as the various sports teams, and a flash of olive-green caught Equius's eye. He was reminded of that freshman from gym class, the one who'd spoken to him out of the blue. She'd been wearing olive-green when she left the class, after all.

It wasn't her, though. It was Meulin Leijon, a senior, although Equius realized that she and the freshman—Nepeta, he seemed to recall her name being—looked like they could be sisters. Meulin was walking toward an indigo Mainline with someone inside it and he couldn't see who it was, but before he got a chance to look closer, Horuss was turning the corner and the school parking lot was out of sight.


	10. Chapter 10

Day three was the first day Cronus attended every class of the day. The first two days, he'd skipped Debate class—on Monday, because he was drunk, and on Tuesday, because he and Rufioh had opted to hang out with Meenah and Damara under the bleachers and make snide comments about the underclassmen in Phys. Ed class. Things were going well on that front, he thought. Despite Aranea's obvious disgust for him, Meenah seemed perfectly content to spend time with him, and Damara was only too happy to bask in Rufioh's presence.

To his recollection, he didn't think Rufioh had ever even _had_ a girlfriend, so when he seemed nervous with Damara's attentions, it was understandable. He just needed to get used to talking to girls and he'd be fine—he had the naturally-magnetic personality and looks that most girls loved, so he really didn't have to try very hard. Still, he looked a bit on-edge, so Cronus figured he'd take him aside later and help him out.

In the meantime, most of his attention was focused on Meenah and making her laugh any way he could.

Wednesday, though, was a different story. He knew he couldn't skip the same class forever, so he finally went to his sixth-hour class and sat down in the back, as far away from the teacher as possible.

Of course, _that_ didn't last very long. Some junior in a bow tie came up to him and said, "Hey, man, that's my seat."

Cronus half-rose out of the desk and grabbed Jake English by the shirt. "Not anymore, daddy-o—this is _my—_ "

"Mr. Ampora, I'm so glad you decided to join us today," the teacher said coldly.

Cronus slowly turned his head toward the teacher. She looked pleasant enough, but her arms were crossed over her chest and she was glaring sharply at him. Of course, what he noticed most was her accent—it was British, which tripped him up a bit. She was probably new. He certainly didn't remember seeing her before.

Reluctantly, he let go of Jake's shirt.

"Thank you. Now then, Mr. Ampora, since you weren't here the first two days, I went ahead and assigned you a seat in the hope that one day you'd deign to wander into class and actually participate." She touched a desk in the front. "Your desk is right up here. Kindly relocate your belongings."

Fuming silently, Cronus stood up and started walking to the desk his teacher had indicated. _This was a mistake. I should have just skipped the whole semester_ , he grumbled to himself.

One kid half-turned to look at him. Cronus definitely didn't recognize this guy, but he had to be either a junior or a senior—this class was only offered to upperclassmen. Then he realized who he was, or at least that he at least vaguely knew him. This was the guy in the red sweater on the first day hanging out with Porrim and the rest of the cheerleaders, the new kid. That explained why Cronus didn't know who he was.

He wasn't wearing that oversized red sweater today. He wore dress pants and a button-down shirt, and his hair was wild and tangled. His eyes were wide and brown, the dark, deep shade of chocolate, and something behind them hinted at a sharp intelligence—or would have, if he didn't look so terrified. That by itself puzzled Cronus, but he didn't really have a chance to think about it too much. His seat was two desks in front of Red Sweater and he sat down, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring insolently at the teacher.

"At least today, everyone is present," she said lightly, marking something on the class roster. She capped her pen, went to the bookshelf against the wall with the door, and picked up a textbook. She made a big show of bringing it over to Cronus's seat and dropping it on his desk from three feet up; it made a loud _bang_ as it impacted. The whole class jumped in their seats, Cronus included, but he found himself fighting a grin as the Debate teacher said, "Your textbook, Mr. Ampora." Sure, she was being a bit obnoxious and over-dramatic, but not every teacher would let you know when they were actively irritated. It was actually kind of funny, and Cronus couldn't help but be amused and actually _like_ her. She was young, too, in her early thirties by the looks of it, and he got the feeling that this class might not be so bad, at least while she was teaching.

"Now, then, yesterday we were discussing the importance of body language and eye contact when it comes to persuasion. You'll remember that a person who makes more eye contact will be seen as more persuasive than someone who makes less eye contact. Who remembers why that is?"

No one answered. Cronus raised an eyebrow. The teacher—he made a mental note to check his schedule and figure out what her name was—looked around, shook her head, and sighed. Out of nowhere, she suddenly slammed her hands on Cronus's desk and lunged forward, getting right into his face. He nearly fell out of his chair. "It's because rapid blinking and eye contact avoidance are signs of lack of confidence and, by extension, insincerity and falsehoods," she said. She neither blinked nor looked away from Cronus once.

She straightened up and started pacing, and Cronus again found himself fighting laughter. He was sure of it now—this class might actually be _interesting_.

* * *

_Oh, no._ Just when he thought he was safe from greasers.

It seemed like he was seeing them _everywhere_ now—the one in his homeroom, between every one of his classes, at lunch, and now, in his Debate class.

He'd barely noticed when Ampora strolled in and tried to take Jake English's seat, but he _definitely_ paid attention when Miss Muse said, "Mr. Ampora, I'm so glad you decided to join us today."

_Ampora._ He'd heard that name before. Actually, he'd heard it quite a few times by now, in various tones of disgust. He knew exactly who Ampora was, and he suddenly wished he had his sweater so he could hide in it. He felt exposed without it.

"Thank you. Now then, Mr. Ampora, since you weren't here the first two days, I went ahead and assigned you a seat in the hope that one day you'd deign to wander into class and actually participate." Muse tapped the desk two seats in front of Kankri's, and his panic only intensified. "Your desk is right up here. Kindly relocate your belongings."

He did not want to sit anywhere _near_ Ampora—not at all. Even though they were in a classroom setting and he knew Muse would have no compunction with putting Ampora in his place _and_ Ampora probably didn't even know he existed, it still made him nervous. He didn't want to deal with it.

He heard Ampora's feet shuffling toward the desk Muse had indicated and, almost against his will, Kankri looked up at Ampora. It was the closest they'd ever been, and he held his breath, unable to look away.

He looked like a regular eighteen-year-old greaser—dark, slicked-back hair, black leather jacket, jeans, blue T-shirt—but at the same time, he didn't look like a regular eighteen-year-old greaser at all. Greasers weren't supposed to look like that, with bizarrely good looks and wearing T-shirts that made their bright blue eyes seem bluer and more intense. No, it just wasn't fair. Kankri's heart rate picked up as Cronus passed by and for the split second their eyes locked, Kankri could practically see the question mark forming above the greaser's head, and then Cronus was sliding into his seat and Muse went back behind her podium.

"At least today, everyone is present," she said calmly. She wrote something quickly and then went to the bookshelf that, two days before, had held thirty textbooks. Now it just had one, the one apparently reserved for Cronus. She picked up the book, stopped in front of Cronus's desk, and deliberately dropped it with a loud _bang_.

The whole class jumped, but several people giggled behind their hands. Cronus simply tilted his head to the side as though the whole thing hadn't fazed him in the slightest—and maybe it hadn't.

"Your textbook, Mr. Ampora," Miss Muse said.

Kankri supposed it was a good thing that, if Cronus had to be in his class, at least the senior would be sitting in front of him instead of beside or behind him. Logically, he knew he didn't really have a reason to suspect that Cronus or any of his greaser friends would target him, but he didn't really care. Greasers made him nervous. They'd been cruel at his old school and while he hadn't actually seen them taunting anyone, just heard stories, he refused to believe these ones in Ohio were any better.

He only half-paid attention to the rest of class, coming back for a few moments when Muse got up in Cronus's face to make a point before he drifted back out. He figured Debate class would be the perfect time for him to work on his campaign speech, although it would take more than a rousing oration to earn the confidence of his peers. He'd have to try to branch out and become friends with other people to gain votes, and nominations hadn't even been opened yet. Still, it didn't hurt to start early, right? Especially since the other potential nominees had known each other far longer than he did.

The second the bell rang for the end of class, though, Kankri was up and out of there. His last class of the day was World History, and he knew better than to incur the wrath of Mr. Slick. The guy could be outright terrifying when he wanted to be.

* * *

"Come on, Aranea, don't _clam_ up on me. What's eatin' your gills?"

Aranea knew she was being deliberately petulant, but she didn't know why. Actually, she _did_ know why—it was because of that outrageous dick Cronus Ampora. But she didn't know why she was reacting so violently to this whole situation. So she just sat in the passenger's seat with her arms crossed, silently waiting for Vriska and Meenah's sister Feferi to appear so Meenah could drive them all home.

When she didn't answer, Meenah sighed. "Is this a _boat_ Cronus?"

Aranea couldn't keep from shooting a sullen glare at her.

"Thought so. I know you got a big ve _net_ ta against him since he tossed you back, but he ain't a bad fish. He's just—"

"He's an asshole!" Aranea snapped. "And for the record, _I_ broke up with _him_. Because he's an asshole!"

Meenah sighed and removed her glasses. For a few moments, she held them up to the light, wiped them off on her shirt, and checked them again. Finally, she slid them back on. "Okay, let's say you're right and Cro _is_ an asshole."

"He _is_."

"Fine. He is. But I can handle assholes," she said calmly. Aranea automatically sat up—Meenah only spoke this seriously when she meant business. "This is our fourth year here, remember? We been swimmin' in the sea of assholes since we got here. And, yeah, Cro Ampora is a douche, but you _reel_ ly ain't gonna get a hotter _buoy_ around here except maybe Rufioh, but I ain't about to tangle with that dirt-poor son of a _beach_. And at least I'm not goin' after one of the Makaras—both of them are total messes."

"Are you really going to go out with him after the pep rally, though?" Aranea asked, practically whining.

"Pro _bubbly_. I can't think of a good reason _knot_ to. Besides, it's a _bubble—_ sorry, double—date with Damara and Rufioh. He ain't about to hurt me."

Aranea wanted to protest further but she couldn't figure out how. Even when she tried to justify it to herself, it ended up sounding strange and wrong in her head. The fact was, she and Meenah had been friends for ten years. She wasn't necessarily worried that Cronus would hurt Meenah physically, but emotionally... No matter how cool and distant Meenah liked to pretend she was, Aranea knew that Cronus had the capacity to emotionally destroy her.

Not only that, though, was the shudder-inducing thought of someone as great as Meenah with someone as slimy as Cronus. He didn't deserve someone as amazing as Meenah. After all, anyone who'd fucked Porrim Maryam really had some shitty standards.

That still ruled out eighty percent of the sophomore through senior boys at the school, but Aranea was just glad that their little fling had happened _before_ Cronus fucked Porrim. Actually, no matter how much she hated him, Aranea would always harbor a small amount of secret pleasure over being Cronus's first.

Aranea straightened her dress and leaned her head against the car. The mood was still strained, which she mostly blamed herself for, but she didn't know how to diffuse it—not her, know-it-all Aranea Serket, who always knew what to say—so she stayed quiet.

"Are you _shore_ there's not somethin' else about this you're not _shell_ in' me a _boat_ this?" Meenah asked.

Aranea smiled to herself, still looking out the window. She'd never tell Meenah, of course, but she actually really liked her lame nautical puns. Aside from Feferi (who she suspected had picked up the habit from her older sister and didn't use them with anywhere near the same nigh-compulsion as Meenah unless she was flustered), she hadn't met anyone who talked like her. "Yeah, I'm _shore_ ," Aranea replied. It always made Meenah smile whenever someone else used her puns around her.

She caught sight of Vriska strolling out of the building and tugging on her Fuchsia Ladies jacket. It looked odd with her jeans and black button-down shirt, but Vriska was the epitome of "I don't give a fuck." She wore whatever she wanted, however she wanted. Aranea was pretty sure that Vriska's jeans had come from the boys' section of Sears, but no one would ever talk shit about it to her face. It was one of the reasons why Vriska was in the Fuchsia ladies in the first place—she had the capacity to reduce anyone to tears with just a few barbed words. Aranea was very proud of her.

"Hey, girls," Vriska said cheerfully, sliding into the backseat behind Aranea. Then she somehow sensed the atmosphere and looked from Aranea to Meenah and back. "What'd I miss?"

"No _fin_ important," Meenah said. "Just a bit of _buoy_ trouble."

"Lame. Boys are weak."

"Oh, is that why you're not dating anyone?" Aranea teased lightly.

"Please—when you have as many irons in the fire as I do, there's no time for boys."

"What irons—"

"All of the irons. _All_ of them."

Feferi finally appeared a few minutes later, accompanied once again by Cronus Ampora's sullen doppelganger Eridan. Aranea didn't understand what the appeal was for either of the Ampora boys—at least now that she'd seen what an annoying prick Cronus was, and she assumed Eridan was the same way—but for some reason, the Peixes girls were all over them. Feferi waved a giddy goodbye to Eridan as Meenah pulled out of the parking lot, and the farther away they got from where Aranea knew there were Amporas, the more she relaxed until she found herself laughing at something Vriska was saying.

Still, she'd have to figure out some way to convince Meenah not to go out with Cronus before Friday—and considering Wednesday was almost over, she had to work fast.


	11. Chapter 11

Dinner had just finished at the Vantas house when there came a rapid knocking on the door. Kankri's mother looked up from her sink full of dishes and peered out the front window. "Who could that be?" she murmured. She wiped her hands off on the dish towel and went to the door.

Kankri was a half a step behind her, so when his mother opened the door, he recognized Porrim immediately, but it was Porrim as he'd never seen her before. Her skirt was long, past her knees, and her sweater was buttoned all the way up. Her hair was pulled back in a modest ponytail, and she smiled politely. "Good evening, Mrs. Vantas!"

His mother looked confused. "Porrim, correct? Porrim Maryam?"

"Yes, ma'am, that's me," Porrim said. "I hope I'm not interrupting dinner. I'm here to pick up Kankri and Karkat."

Kankri never swore aloud, but in his thoughts, he had quite a foul mouth. At that exact moment, he mentally let loose a string that would have had a sailor blushing. She'd mentioned driving them to the pep rally tonight, but he hadn't thought she was _serious_. He hadn't even mentioned the pep rally to his parents—he was convinced they would say no.

"Pick them up? For what?"

"Kankri didn't tell you?" Porrim asked, raising her eyebrows. "There's a school pep rally tonight! I borrowed my mother's car and I told Kankri I'd drive him and Karkat. Can he go?"

Before his mother had a chance to respond, his father finally set down his newspaper and came to the door to see what was the matter as well. "What's going on? Miss Maryam, it's a pleasure to see you. How's your mother?"

"Just fine, Reverend," Porrim said with the most demure smile Kankri had ever seen. "I was just explaining to Mrs. Vantas that there's a school pep rally tonight. I thought Kankri would have told you about it. Everyone's going to be there, and Kankri told me that he really wanted to start branching out and making friends. Would it be alright if he and Karkat went?"

Mr. Vantas rubbed his chin for a moment. "What time does the pep rally end?"

"Around nine-thirty or ten, but I have my sister and one of her friends in the car also so if we were hungry after, we were going to get some pizza."

"And what time might I expect my sons back?"

"No later than eleven," Porrim promised.

Kankri's parents exchanged glances and for a few long moments, he was sure his father was going to say no. But then he surprised Kankri by saying, "I suppose it would be alright. You do have your homework for the weekend done, correct?" This, he directed at Kankri.

He nodded quickly. "Yes, Father."

"Hmm. Karkat?" he called down the hallway toward Karkat's room.

He didn't even bother coming out of his room. He simply shouted back from behind the door, "Yeah, Dad?"

"Porrim Maryam is here to pick up you and your brother for the pep rally this evening."

The door to Karkat's room finally creaked open and he stuck his head out. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really. Were you planning to go?"

"Uh. Well, I kinda wanted to, but I didn't think you'd let me."

Mr. Vantas raised a curious eyebrow. "As long as you keep yourselves out of trouble, I have no objections."

"I'll make sure they behave!" Porrim said brightly. "Come on, guys! We're going to be late!" As soon as Karkat came to the door as well, she grabbed both him and Kankri by the sleeves and pulled them to the car that was idling at the curb. "Back seat," she instructed. "My sister and her friend are in the front with me."

Kankri slammed his door seconds before Porrim pulled away from the curb and took off for the school. Once they were out of view of his house, he let out a relieved breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. "I didn't actually expect that you would come by to retrieve us. I assumed our discussions were more of the idle variety, and while I appreciate the brief reprieve from what was sure to have been a dull Friday evening, not that spending the evening in the company of one's parents should be construed as inherently boring, I would have—"

"He's a chatty one, isn't he?" said the dark-haired girl squished in the middle between Porrim and the blonde in the passenger's seat. She half-twisted in the seat and flashed him a grin. "I'm Kanaya, Porrim's sister. This is Rose Lalonde."

"Kankri Vantas. This is my brother Karkat. It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine."

Porrim turned on the radio to prevent any more chatter, and for a few minutes, the only sound was Guy Mitchell's singing. It was pretty nice, actually, and Kankri sank back into the seat. He wrapped his arms around himself and pulled his arms out of his sleeves. His red sweater had been washed since Monday and he wore it now, and he was grateful for it because despite it being early September, the days were already starting to turn cool. Wasn't it only a few days ago he was nearly sweating through his clothing? How had four days changed that? The weather in Ohio was weird.

Porrim pulled into a parking space and tugged the rubber band out of her hair. "Jesus," she muttered, shaking out her hair. "I _hate_ doing that." She began unbuttoning her sweater and tugged it off, revealing the jade-green shirt she wore beneath it, and tossed it into the back seat. "Had to make a good impression on your parents," she explained with a grin at Kankri's half-confused, half-shocked look. She half-stood up (as well as she could with the steering wheel in the way) and unzipped the side of her skirt. With two shakes of her hips, she pulled it off as well. Underneath the skirt, she wore a pair of black capri pants that Kankri suspected were just barely short enough to hide under it. She tossed the skirt into the back seat as well before switching out her socks and saddle shoes for a pair of jade-green flats that Kanaya handed her from where they were hidden at Rose's feet. "Thank you, dear," she said lightly, ruffling her sister's hair. "Makeup bag, please."

Kanaya popped open the glove compartment and pulled out a small leather bag. For a few minutes, Porrim seemed completely oblivious to her audience as she carefully applied rouge, lipstick, eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner, but by the time she finished, she'd been transformed from a pretty girl to a total knockout. She caught Kankri's eye in the rearview mirror and grinned. "I'm guessing you didn't hang out with a lot of girls at your old school, huh?"

Kankri shook his head. He knew that females generally wore makeup, but he'd never seen the process. His own mother generally only wore lipstick and a little mascara, but he hadn't even watched her apply that much. It was actually incredibly fascinating.

"Well, that's about to change. Come on—they're about to light the bonfire."

* * *

The last thing she wanted to do was go to this stupid pep rally. It was all her sister's idea, really—the boy she had a crush on was going to be there and she was somehow convinced he was going to ask her out. Aradia secretly doubted it, but she allowed Damara to fuss over her hair ("No sister of mine is going to be seen with her hair a mess") and pick out something for her to wear. She didn't exactly know why her sister was bringing her along anyway, but she would just go with it. There was a plan somewhere, even if she hadn't been clued into it yet.

"Come on!" Damara said suddenly, pulling away from where she'd been watching out the window. "Meenah's here!" She fluffed her hair and went to the front door, yelling behind her, "We'll be back later, Mom!" Without waiting for an answer, she sprinted out, leaving Aradia hopping as she slid her left shoe on.

"Bye! Love you!" she called, hurrying out and slamming the door behind her.

She slowed as she neared the curb, staring into Meenah Peixes's car. It already looked packed—that was Meenah's sister Feferi in the back, and Aranea Serket scooting over in the front seat to allow Damara to slide in next to her. Vriska Serket was in the middle seat in the back, leaving the far-right back seat open for Aradia.

She absolutely hated Vriska. The younger Serket was five feet, six inches of concentrated bitchiness. For all of Aradia's freshman year, she'd gotten away with being by turns fake-friendly and genuinely hateful to her. Vriska, for whatever reason, just loved to antagonize her, and though Aradia tried to ignore it, she wanted less than anything to be squashed in Meenah Peixes's tiny car right next to her. How their older sisters were so close was beyond her.

Damara stuck her head out of the window. "Aradia, what the hell are you doing? Get in! We're gonna miss the best part!"

She sighed and reluctantly slid into the car next to Vriska. She was starting to hate this whole night even more than before.

Fortunately, everyone seemed to be focused on something else. Aradia listened in as Aranea continued the conversation she was having with Meenah about some guy or another, saying he was "no good" for her and that he was an ass, but Meenah was clearly having none of it.

"Lemme break it down for you, Aranea. I don't care. I'm going on _one little date_ with him, not marrying the _buoy_. And until you can come up with a _betta_ reason than just 'he's a jerk,' _clam_ the fuck up."

The elder Serket exhaled sharply through her nose and crossed her arms over her chest but didn't say anything in response.

_Wow, harsh_ , Aradia said to herself. She didn't particularly like Aranea, either, but at least she wasn't at Vriska's level of outright putridity. She wasn't stupid enough to share her opinion on Meenah's comment, either—the last thing she wanted was a verbal skewering.

The rest of the ride to Lakeside High School was icy and silent. Aradia wished Feferi or Damara would say something to break the tense silence that had settled in the car, but they were probably hoping that someone else would say something. Hell, she would have settled for Damara gushing about Rufuss or whatever his name was if it would lighten the air.

Aradia felt guilty for feeling relieved that these girls were not her regular friends. She wouldn't fit in with the Fuchsia ladies no matter how hard she tried, and she didn't want to. Damara had tried to get her to hang out with them last year and she'd given it a shot, but Meenah, Aranea, and especially Vriska were a bit too bitchy for her. Feferi seemed genuinely nice, but she also wasn't a member of the Fuchsia Ladies, so that might have explained things. Aside from her sister, the only one in the group Aradia actually liked was Roxy, and she was nowhere to be found tonight.

They finally pulled into the school parking lot. Aradia was out of the car the moment Meenah parked—the atmosphere inside it was stifling. Apparently everyone else felt the same way because Meenah, Damara, and Feferi all threw open their doors immediately and piled out, leaving Aranea sliding out on Damara's side and Vriska following Feferi.

"Jesus," Aradia muttered. She couldn't see the bonfire from here, but she could smell the wood burning, tinging the air with the crisp, sharp scent of smoke and burning. She was sorry to have missed the part where Coach Deuce lit the bonfire, but she loved the smell. It filled her lungs and she found herself wandering toward it unconsciously.

"Thank _cod_ that's over with," Feferi whispered.

Aradia jumped so high she nearly landed on the roof. She hadn't realized Feferi was next to her. She looked back and saw that the other four were sliding their fuchsia jackets on and still hovering by Meenah's car but not really saying anything by the looks of it. "What's going on with them? Why are Meenah and Aranea fighting?"

Feferi sighed, bunching her skirt in her hands. It went just a few inches past her knees and looked to be the same fuchsia color as their sisters' jackets, but it was trimmed in aqua and a light blue-green color. "Meenah's pro _bubbly_ going on a date tonight with that complete cock Cronus Ampora. Aranea is understandably disgusted and is trying to convince her not to do it, but..." She shook her head. "Meenah likes to do whatever she's been told _knot_ to do. I don't like the _buoy_ either, but I also know _betta_ than to try to tell her what to do. I'm just grateful that Cronus's brother Eridan isn't as bad as him."

"Ah. Yeah, Damara's probably going on a date tonight, too. Well, so she says."

"With Rufioh Nitram, right?"

"Um, yeah, I think that's it."

"From what I heard, it was basically a done deal. He really is going to ask her out. The two of them and Meenah and Cronus are going on a date."

"Oh." Aradia looked back at the car. "So what's going to happen with the rest of us? Cronus has his own car, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, I think so. I think Meenah's going to give her keys to Aranea and have her drive us home tonight even though she's all kinds of mad at her. Vriska doesn't know how to drive yet, and neither do I. So Meenah and Damara are going to go with Rufioh and Cronus in Cronus's car and leave the rest of us to essentially fend for ourselves."

The bonfire swung into sight, a cacophony of noise and voices rising into the air with the smoke. The Lakeside High School Marching Band was getting into place around the fire and warming up while, further away, a group of cheerleaders ran through their part. "Part of me wonders what I'm doing here. I'm not on any of the sports teams," she murmured, mostly to herself.

"'If you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter,'" Feferi joked, mimicking Principal Quentin's comment during announcements that morning. It had gotten quite a few stifled giggles then, too. "I just happen to be the former, not the latter."

"Oh, right, you're on the swim team."

"Yep!" Feferi looked ahead, narrowing her eyes, and suddenly pointed. "Hey, look, isn't that the Captors over there?"

"Huh?" Aradia followed where Feferi was pointing and saw the blond twins with their backs to them. It could only be them—the Captor twins didn't dress identically, but they dressed similarly enough mostly to make it confusing. "Yeah, I think you're right. Do you know them?"

Feferi shrugged. "I know Sollux a little. He's not so bad. Mituna was in one of my classes last year and he was... he was very energetic. They're both _reel_ ly nice, though! Come on, I'll introduce you!" She grabbed Aradia's hand and pulled her along, and Aradia secretly thought that nothing could be worse than hovering next to Vriska all night, so she gratefully followed along.


	12. Chapter 12

"What the hell?" Cronus muttered, staring at Rufioh's house. "I fuckin' told him when we were gonna be here."

"Maybe they lost track a' time or somethin'," Eridan pointed out from the back seat. "Go knock on the door an' let 'em know you're here."

"An' have eleven hundred dogs jumpin' on me? Fuck, no. I'll pass."

Before Eridan could reply, though, the front door flew open and Tavros and Rufioh came out. Rufioh turned his head and shouted something inside before hurrying down the front walk, but Tavros was already getting into the back next to Eridan.

"Shit, took you long enough," Cronus said once Rufioh opened the front passenger door.

"Sorry," Rufioh mumbled. He slouched into the seat, rubbing at his left eyebrow.

"Kurloz is probably already gonna be there," Cronus added. He pulled away from the curb and started off toward the school again. Part of him couldn't believe he was willingly returning to school on a Friday night for non-academic purposes, but it was where he and Rufioh were meeting Meenah and Damara, so he'd tolerate it.

The car ride was tense and awkward, and Cronus became dimly aware that Rufioh hadn't looked at him once—in fact, his hand had never dropped from the left side of his face. Cronus couldn't see his face at all and he wanted to figure out what was wrong—something had to be wrong—but he didn't want to make a big thing of it with Eridan and Tavros in the car. He kept glancing toward Rufioh but decided he wasn't going to say anything about it until their brothers were off doing their own thing.

Fortunately, the moment Cronus parked next to Kurloz's boatlike Mainline, Eridan was off, heading toward Feferi and Damara's younger sister Aradia. Tavros stayed behind, but that was okay. Cronus got the impression that he didn't have many friends.

"What's goin' on?" Cronus started, tugging at Rufioh's wrist, but what exactly the problem was became apparent the second Rufioh's hand dropped from his face.

"Got a steak?" Rufioh half-joked. He had a black eye and his lip was split, but he at least attempted to smile.

"What the hell—did your dad—?"

"It's not a big deal," Rufioh said quietly. "He's done worse."

"Yeah, but what happened?"

Rufioh only glanced at Tavros for a split second before repeating, "It's not a big deal," but it was enough for Cronus to figure it out. Something had happened with Tavros and their father, and Rufioh had stepped in to bear the brunt of it. Tavros appeared shaken but physically unharmed, his hands in his lap, but suddenly, he threw open the car door, got out, and headed off toward the bonfire.

"Where's he—?" Cronus started to get out of the car, but Rufioh put his hand on his arm to stop him.

"Let him. He needs some space."

Cronus settled back into the seat.

"He's takin' Home Economics," Rufioh said abruptly.

"Huh?"

"Tav. That's why my dad was so pissed. He doesn't want one a' his sons takin' a class for girls or whatever, y'know? But... hell, our place is a fuckin' mess. It wouldn't hurt if at least one of us knew how to, like cook or somethin', y'know? So I tell my dad that just denyin' that Mom's dead isn't gonna bring her back an' I guess that was mistake since he's already fuckin' pissed-off an' so he just hauls off an' punches me a couple times an' then he wore himself out an' went back into the livin' room an' started drinkin' again, an' Tav got me all cleaned up so it's good now. I'm fuckin' fine. I'm great."

"That's a lie if I ever heard one."

"Yeah, but if I say it enough, I'll believe it eventually."

They sat in silence for a moment until there was the staccato rapping of knuckles on the window. Cronus popped open the door, his demeanor changing smoothly from concerned to exuberant, and jumped on Kurloz. "Hey, chief, what's happenin'?"

"We got a righteous bonfire, our merry motherfucking band of minstrels, and two thousand motherfuckers who can't be wrong," Kurloz said. He drained his half-full bottle of beer and flung it as far as he could, laughing when it shattered on the pavement a hundred feet away. "I'm ready to up and motherfucking rumble, man."

Cronus had no idea what Kurloz was on tonight—maybe this was his natural state and it had just been so long that he'd forgotten what it was like—but he was definitely in one of his moods. It was a little unnerving, but he'd seen it before. "Don't worry, chief. If anyone tries to start shit, we'll take 'em the fuck down."

Kurloz gave a satisfied nod, hopped up on the hood of his car, and lit a cigarette. "Most motherfucking excellent."

Cronus turned to look around for Gamzee—he and Kurloz were like Tweedledum and Tweedledumber, you seldom saw one without the other—and caught sight of him heading toward the bonfire. "Gamz!" he called, but the junior either didn't hear him or pretended he didn't because he kept right on walking, stuffing his empty hands into the pockets of his jacket and his hair a tangled mess silhouetted in the light from the bonfire.

Not for the first time, it occurred to him that their name, _The Lost Boys_ , was incredibly appropriate. The three of them—Rufioh and Kurloz and Gamzee—were all lost. Rufioh had been lost for years, forced to grow up too fast to take care of Tavros and keep him from experiencing the same thing. Kurloz and Gamzee were lost, too, either because of the drugs or something else and using the drugs to numb it. Was Cronus the only one who wasn't lost? Or was he just as lost and simply didn't realize it?

He glanced between Kurloz, exhaling a stream of smoke, and Rufioh, putting a cigarette in his own mouth and striking a match, to see if either of them had noticed his odd brush with poignancy, but they both appeared to have missed it. That was fine with him, though. He was a little terrified of getting too existential for his own good. It was rough all over—even for him.

He briefly considered fishing out a bottle of beer from the back seat of Kurloz's car but decided against it. If he got drunk tonight, it might make the whole night stranger. He felt something cosmic, something radiating from the stars, and maybe that was what affected Kurloz, causing him to switch up whatever drug cocktail he was on and change his personality so completely.

"So, Kurly," Cronus said, employing the nickname he only used when he was being deliberately casual, "gonna have to ask you for a favor."

Kurloz fixed him with a surprisingly sharp look; he must have recognized the tone. "Like what?"

"Well, y'know, me an' Rufi here are meetin' up with Meenah an' Damara an' we're goin' on a double date type a' thing—actually, Rufi, you still feel like goin', or...?" Cronus motioned to his eye to indicate what might prompt Rufioh to back out, but the shorter boy shook his head.

"I'm still fine with goin' if you are."

"Right." Cronus grinned. "If anythin', you got the pity angle workin' in your favor now."

Rufioh glowered at the pavement. "I don't _want_ pity."

"Well, anyway. So, Kurly, I'm gonna be drivin', only there won't be enough room to squish the four of us _an_ ' Eridan _an_ ' Tav in there as well, not that I want my fuckin' little brother comin' along anyway an' I'm pretty sure Rufi feels the same. So, basically, what I'm askin' is, can you drive Eridan an' Tav back home tonight?"

Kurloz rolled his eyes. "Of motherfucking course, man. I got your motherfucking back."

Cronus grinned and nudged him playfully. "Thought so, chief. Thanks." He was about to say something else when the sound of female voices drifted over and he turned to locate the source. On their way over were none other than Meenah and Damara themselves, looking purposefully cool. It was probably an act—well, Damara's deliberate aloofness was probably feigned because ever since Monday, she'd talked about Rufioh nearly nonstop, but Meenah's might not have been—but he wouldn't fault them for it anyway. After all, it was best not to look _too_ excited, or else there might be way too much pressure.

Cronus had it all planned out—dinner at the Freeze King (he'd already accepted the fact that, even though Meenah's family had even more cash than his and neither Rufioh nor Damara had any money at all, he'd end up covering the whole check himself) and then, later, if everyone was cool with it, a movie at the drive-in theater just outside of town. It would all be very low-key, very relaxed, not too much pressure. Rufioh and Damara, he wasn't too concerned about. She obviously liked him a lot and he was sure once Rufioh was actually on a date with her, he'd warm up to her—Cronus hadn't missed the way he looked nervous whenever she was around. Meenah, on the other hand, wasn't completely sold on the idea of going steady with him. Which was fine, really, since neither was he, but he had few enough reservations about it to make the evening worthwhile.

" _Whale_ , the night's barely begun an' already, it's a massive drag," Meenah drawled. She had a cigarette of her own dangling from her fingertips and she brought it up to her fuchsia-painted lips, sucked in a breath, and exhaled it right into Cronus's face. "What about you, angelfish?"

Cronus chuckled. "I dunno that I'd consider myself an _angelfish_ , but..." He was distracted after a moment by Kurloz doubled over, making gagging motions. "Hey, fuck off," he snapped, and Kurloz started laughing.

Then Cronus glanced at Damara, who was staring at Rufioh with her eyes wide. Before Cronus could draw his attention to it, she started forward with a squeak, her hands outstretched toward his face. "Rufioh, what happened?"

Rufioh blinked and, for a second, Cronus thought he'd forgotten how to talk. Then he mumbled, "It's nothin', doll. I'm fine."

"But..." She cupped his face, and it suddenly struck Cronus as odd how tall she was. She and Rufioh were the same height, just under six feet tall. "But your eye and your lip are all—"

"I know. It's nothin', doll, really." Rufioh offered her a small smile even though the still-healing cut in his lip split open in the process.

Damara let out a soft " _aw_ " sound and, taking them all by surprise, pulled Rufioh's face to hers and pressed her lips to his.

His eyes widened in shock and his hands fluttered uselessly at his sides. He awkwardly caught Cronus's eye, who gave him a pointed look and mimed putting his arms around an imaginary girl. Rufioh seemed to catch his drift because he closed his eyes and lightly rested his hands on Damara's hips.

After a few more awkward moments, Damara pulled back, and Cronus was pretty sure he saw a thin trail of blood on her lips from Rufioh's. She smiled nervously although her hands never left his shoulders. "Sorry if that was bad or something. I just... well, impulse." She let out a high giggle, her blush evident even in the dark.

"No, no, doll, it wasn't bad," Rufioh assured her quickly. "It's just... heh, I guess that was my first kiss."

_Whoa!_ Cronus never knew that Rufioh hadn't even been kissed before. Apparently, they had a lot of work ahead of them—although Damara seemed more than willing to assist on that front. They still needed to work on Rufioh's confidence, though. He had the whole package, after all—he just needed to learn how to handle it all. "No big deal," Cronus said. "So did you girls wanna hang out here a little while longer or just clear outta here? Freeze King's on me," he added with a grin toward Meenah.

"I think we could stay a little longer," Meenah said with a shrug. "But if Aranea starts headin' over here, let's just go—I'm in no mood to deal with _any_ a' her shit tonight."

"She still doesn't like me, does she?" Cronus asked lazily, as though he didn't already know.

"They were fighting about it the whole way over here," Damara added.

" _Knot_ the whole way. Just a bit at the be _fin_ ning. Surprisingly, she doesn't seem to have a problem with you, Rufi."

"I'd fuckin' hope not," Cronus said. "They never dated, after all." He turned to seek Kurloz's backup on this point, but Kurloz had left, too. Another few seconds of scanning the parking lot later, he located the elder Makara heading off to terrorize some cheerleaders. He hadn't seen Porrim with them—maybe she'd dropped from the squad. "Too bad they already lit the bonfire, though," he added. "That woulda been quite the show."

"Oh, yeah, they nearly burned the school down last year," Damara laughed. "I was hoping we'd get closer this year."

"Yeah, but that's what arson is for," Cronus joked.

The bonfire was the only real reason anyone went to the pep rallies anyway. For the most part, only jocks and cheerleaders cared about anything any of the coaches had to say regarding athletics because they were the only ones who bought into that crap. Cronus certainly never did—his true skill lie in music. He played guitar, bass, drums, piano, violin, accordion, and saxophone, although most people generally only found out about the first three, sometimes piano as well. Either way, though, he'd never been interested in breaking a sweat for anything that wasn't strictly necessary—although in his experience, sex fell firmly in the category of "warranted expenditure of energy."

"There probably isn't anything else goin' on there anymore. Nothin' cool, anyway," Rufioh pointed out. "Maybe we should just go."

"Yeah, actually, I'm a little hungry," Damara agreed. She finally slid her hand down Rufioh's shoulder and to his hand. Maybe she thought she was being subtle, but she wasn't. Rufioh wrapped his fingers around hers.

Cronus already had a feeling he knew how Damara's flirting with Rufioh would end. She would eventually comment on being cold and he'd offer her his jacket and she'd giddily accept and the next thing anyone knew, she would be wearing it instead of her Fuchsia Ladies jacket and Rufioh would be out of a twenty-dollar leather jacket. That was no joke when it was essentially his only cold-weather-friendly jacket and he didn't have the cash to buy a new one.

Meenah rolled her eyes. She was clearly thinking something similar, although, like Cronus, she wouldn't actually say anything about it. "Fine. Let me finish my cigarette an' tell Feferi we're leavin'." She pulled out her car keys.

"Who's gonna be drivin' your sisters home?" Cronus asked, looking from her to Damara.

"Oh, pro _bubbly_ Aranea. I still trust _her_ with my car over that fuckin' lush Roxy," Meenah said. "Besides, I don't even think Roxy's comin'." She finished off the last of her cigarette, flicked the butt away, and tugged lightly on Cronus's jacket. "Come on, let's go find Feferi an' Aradia."


	13. Chapter 13

"Hey, guys! What are you up to?"

Sollux jumped in surprise, but Mituna didn't even appear fazed. He turned around and said, "Looking at the fire, _duh_." His voice was laden with sarcasm, but Sollux knew he was grinning that insane Mituna grin he almost always wore (unless Cronus Ampora was shoving him into the closest empty locker, but that was beside the point), his braces catching sharply on the orange light from the bonfire. That grin meant everything was normal, everything was alright, he was just clowning around.

Fortunately, Feferi Peixes (because that was who had addressed them) wasn't bothered by Mituna's rather rude-seeming response. She just smiled back and nodded. "It's great, isn't it?"

Sollux remained quiet while the two of them—Mituna and Feferi—struck up an easy conversation. It was one of the things he envied about his brother. Physically, they were identical, but to those who knew them (and they were few), they were wildly different. Somehow, Mituna was able to get along with almost everyone with a bare minimum of effort, but Sollux found himself pushed aside and looked over. It didn't help that he kept his eyes down to avoid notice.

He didn't know how Mituna did it. Even with all the bullshit he put up with (Cronus Ampora's harassment over his lisp and braces, both traits he shared with Sollux, among other things), he still felt comfortable talking to other people. Sollux couldn't do it.

After a few moments, he became aware of another person next to Feferi. She'd remained quiet, but she didn't look nearly as uncomfortable as Sollux felt. He knew Feferi from a class they'd had together the year before, but he didn't recall ever seeing the other girl, though.

She looked at him and smiled, and he smiled nervously back before looking away immediately. He wished they could just go home already. Neither of them was even remotely interested in sports or even following the school's athletic program. Mituna had come just to mingle with people and of course he'd had to drag Sollux along with him.

He contemplated shuffling away, but there were people everywhere and he didn't think he could get the solitude he needed. Besides, he would want to drag Mituna away with him, and he and Feferi looked deeply absorbed in their conversation.

"Are you okay?"

The other girl's voice broke into his thoughts and he looked quickly up. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look a little... freaked out." She looked genuinely concerned even as she gathered up the material of her skirt in her hands and bunched it up. Maybe she was nervous, too.

"I... don't really like being here when I don't have to be," Sollux explained, carefully not using any words with an _S_ in it. Mituna had the ability to completely disregard his lisp, but Sollux didn't. It didn't help that he couldn't even correctly pronounce his own name. If that wasn't a confidence-killer, nothing was.

"It's okay. I didn't really want to be here, either," the girl confessed. "It was my sister's idea."

"Why did you have to come then?"

"Oh, there's this guy she likes and I guess she was supposed to meet him here and go on a double date with the two of them and Feferi's sister and the guy she likes—"

Feferi's attention had been drawn by the sound of her name. "She doesn't exactly _like_ him—my sister Meenah, I mean. She's just giving him a chance, I think. Actually, I think she thinks he's kind of a dick, which he is, but I guess like a tolerable dick? I'm not sure. But yeah, the four of them are going on this double date thing and I don't get it but whatever."

"Right. It's all weird. And I still don't know why I had to be brought along except in case Damara ends up getting ditched or something."

Sollux nodded slowly. "I think I understand."

The girl grinned. "I'm Aradia, by the way. Aradia Megido."

_Shit._ There was no way he could get out of introducing himself now. He really hated saying his own name. "Um. I'm Sollux Captor." He waited for the inevitable giggle, but it never came.

"Sollux?" she confirmed, pronouncing his name correctly. A lot of people initially said it "Tholluckth," some before realizing he had a lisp and others as a way to make fun of him, but she didn't. It relieved him a little.

He nodded, a faint smile twitching at his lips. "Yeah. Like that."

Aradia's smile widened. "Good. It's nice to meet you, Sollux."

* * *

"No one saw you, did they?"

Jake half-smiled and shook his head. "No, no one saw me. Believe it or not, I can be discreet."

"It's not that," Dirk protested as the junior approached him. Another day, another deserted bathroom, but at least they had less of a chance of getting caught here while everyone else was outside, enjoying the pep rally and the bonfire. The smoke wafted in through a half-open window in the bathroom with giddy shrieks as people chased each other around, but in the darkness, they were only illuminated by a single fluorescent light bulb and the little light from the fire that turned the scrubbed pale blue tiles a strange fiery hue.

"Then what is it? Are you so sure Dave didn't see _you_?" Jake challenged, his eyebrow raised.

God, he hoped not. If Dave or Dack found out about this... they wouldn't, though. Dirk would make absolutely sure they didn't find out. He'd done well enough so far, although that could change with a little slip. Sometimes, Jake buried himself so far under his skin that he didn't care if they ever got caught, but then he would look up at him with those bright green eyes and Dirk would remember that he didn't want there to come a day when he couldn't look at those. It reminded him of their need for secrecy. Just a little while longer, two more short years, and they could leave all this behind them, start over somewhere else where it was just the two of them and no one knew them. He couldn't wait.

"He didn't. He was busy with Harley and a few other people."

Jake nodded, his smile faint. Harley was actually his cousin. That was how they'd met. Sure, in school, they'd seen each other in the hallways in between classes, but their first truly important face-to-face interaction had happened at Harley's house while Jake had been over.

That had been the first time Dirk got a good look at him and the first time Jake ever really looked at him, and there had been that immediate spark of attraction. Dirk had convinced himself that it was only on him, that Jake didn't feel it, until he realized he had two classes with Jake and that suddenly, the other boy kept looking at him as if he was some riddle to be solved. Dirk tried to pretend he didn't notice it, but one day after class, he reached the end of his patience with it. He intercepted Jake in the bathroom and demanded to know what he kept looking at.

"You confuse me, that's all," Jake had said, taking him completely by surprise.

" _I_ confuse _you_?"

Jake had nodded, lowered his eyes for a moment, and then looked back up. "Sorry. I didn't think I was looking all that much, honestly. I'll stop, though, if it makes you that uncomfortable."

It really didn't, though. On a whim, he'd pressed his lips to Jake's in a quick, soft kiss. He pulled back less than a second later, wondering if he'd gone insane, but Jake didn't look panicked or horrified or anything that Dirk expected. Stunned, yes, but he also looked... awed.

"Sorry," he started, but he never finished forming the word because Jake pulled Dirk back to him and returned the kiss, and it was all downhill from there.

And now they were here, in the second-floor bathroom that would almost certainly not attract anyone else, not with another bathroom closer to the bonfire, and Dirk felt like a dick for even suggesting that Jake would be anything other than careful.

"I wasn't trying to say that someone might have seen you. I just worry. That's all."

The half-smile returned to Jake's face and he lifted his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "I know what you mean. Clandestine meetings in school bathrooms don't exactly put my mind at ease, either."

"I wish I could take you out on a regular date," Dirk said. "I don't like this fake-studying bullshit, either."

"Maybe we could... I don't know, meet at Jade's house and figure something out. While Jade and Dave are doing their thing, we could leave." Jake shrugged helplessly. "At least I'm trying to think of something."

"It could work," Dirk conceded.

"Besides, look at us," Jake added. "Who'd honestly suspect what's really going on? Even if it seems obvious to us, I really think they're all clueless."

Dirk wasn't so sure, but maybe Jake was right. He wished, though, that he could share Jake's confidence.

* * *

Tavros wrapped his arms around himself and tried to appear as small as possible, but apparently it wasn't small enough. "Hey, little motherfucker! Wait up!"

Only a Makara would refer to someone as "little motherfucker," and that wasn't Kurloz's guttural drawl. It was Gamzee, although that didn't reassure him at all. He didn't want to talk to _anyone_ , least of all one of his brother's fucked-up friends. He spun around, dropping his arms, and his hands balled into fists at his sides. " _What_?" he snapped.

What could Gamzee Makara conceivably want from him? Wasn't it bad enough that his father was a violent, angry old drunk who thought both of his sons were worthless failures? Wasn't it enough salt in the wound when Rufioh took the blows meant for _him_? And now _this_? Why couldn't people just leave him alone?

There was a fire in Tavros's eyes, he knew it, he could feel it burning him from the inside out, but if the look was a warning, it was lost on Makara. He continued his approach, seemingly unperturbed by the frustration on Tavros's face.

"What's going on, motherfucker? Why's Rufioh's motherfucking face look like a train hit it?"

"Why don't you ask _him_?" Tavros spat. "He's your friend, isn't he?"

"Well, yeah, brother, but he's got motherfucking Cronus to worry about him." Gamzee shoved his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. "I've seen you around. You don't have any motherfucking friends to worry about _you_."

A bit of anger escaped him. "No, but I'm fine."

"Come on, brother," Gamzee started, but Tavros cut him off with a sharp glare.

"Don't call me that—I'm not your brother." Rufioh was his brother. Rufioh kept him safe from their old man. Rufioh was his protector. That's what a brother was—someone who would keep you out of trouble, who would make sure nothing bad happened to you. Gamzee Makara had no fucking right to refer to Tavros as "brother."

"Shit, I'm sorry," Gamzee said quietly, looking genuinely sorry. "I just meant that a motherfucker needs someone to talk to sometimes. I know you got your motherfucking brother but sometimes you need a motherfucker on the outside, too."

Tavros crossed his arms back over his chest. "What, and you think I want to talk to _you_?" Maybe he was being a bit unfair now—and unnecessarily rude—but it was nice for once to have someone to lash out at. Besides, Gamzee kept right on standing there, like Tavros's words didn't hurt him.

"Maybe. If you didn't have someone else, I could motherfucking be there for you."

Tavros hated that he was right, though. He really didn't have anyone else who would listen to him. He really didn't have a single friend aside from Rufioh. The girls at his table in Home Ec were nice enough to him, Rose and Kanaya and Jane, but they didn't know about his home life. They didn't know about his dad and his brother and his dead mother and all their bulldogs and all the shit he had to put up with. Gamzee knew, and he was actually willing to listen.

"Really?" he asked quietly.

Gamzee nodded.

"My old man hit him."

"What the motherfuck for?"

"Because he..." Tavros swallowed. "He kept my dad from hitting me instead. My dad doesn't want me taking... one of my classes." He wasn't quite ready yet to tell Gamzee that he was taking a girls' class.

"That was motherfucking brave of him. Rufioh, I mean."

"Yeah, I know." Tavros closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "I just wish my dad had died instead of my mom, you know? Is that bad?"

"Maybe," Gamzee said gently. "But I think it's motherfucking understandable. Your old man is a mean motherfucker."

"Don't I know it," Tavros murmured. He rubbed his arms again. Gamzee was looking at him unblinkingly with bright blue eyes that almost looked indigo in the strange light from the bonfire. "Look, I just want to be alone for a little while. If I need someone to talk to later, I'll come find you though, okay?"

Gamzee nodded. "Sure thing, motherfucker. You know where I'll be." He smiled brightly and went back the way he came, back toward Cronus Ampora and his car, and Tavros scratched the back of his head as he watched him go. _He's a weird guy._

* * *

The four of them piled into Cronus's car as soon as Meenah handed the keys to her Windsor Deluxe over to Aranea (who glared sharply at Cronus but otherwise didn't say anything). It didn't bother him, though. He was used to her by now, and he just waved pleasantly at her with an unlit cigarette between his lips.

In the back, Rufioh and Damara sat close but not too close. Cronus could tell he was still nervous about this whole situation, especially after Damara kissed him, but Cronus couldn't figure out why. Rufioh had nothing to worry about. All he had to do was be himself—Damara liked him no matter what.

She also seemed a bit nervous, though. After impulsively kissing him, she'd retreated back a bit as though she'd been too forward (maybe she had, but what did it matter?), but she kept looking back up at Rufioh and blushing. He would catch her eye and smile nervously and then look away and it was actually making Cronus a bit nauseous, but they were both dorks. They'd figure it out soon enough.

Meenah dropped into the passenger's seat next to Cronus. " _Whale_ , Fef wasn't thrilled, but she don't have another _wave_ to get home besides ridin' with Aranea, so..." She shrugged. "And I told her to make _shore_ Aradia got home, too," she added to Damara.

"Huh? Oh. Okay," Damara said. She'd been distracted by Rufioh. Again.

"Eri was a little pissed, too," Cronus said with a grin. "He doesn't like Kurloz all that much, I guess." He shrugged. "Looks like he's just gonna have to deal with it. You cats ready to rock an' roll?"

"Shut the fuck up," Meenah said, buckling her seat belt. "Let's just fucking go already."

Cronus didn't need to be told twice. He put the New Yorker in reverse and backed out of the parking lot. The Freeze King awaited.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time, and I'm sorry for that. I just had a lot of personal shit happen to me all at once and I needed a week off (after the underway) to recover, and I also didn't feel like writing anything for awhile. Also this chapter gave me some serious writer's block at the beginning, so thank you all for your patience.
> 
> I do not own the lyrics to "Mr. Sandman" by The Chordettes.

Rufioh stayed nervous-seeming through the whole drive to the Freeze King. Cronus had to resist the urge to sigh—it was just a date, after all, and with a girl who actually liked him. There was really no cause for him to stress out, even if it _was_ his first date (he didn't know for sure, but he had a strong suspicion, anyway).

Thankfully, Meenah was oblivious to the tension and just whined about how absolutely annoying Aranea had been. Cronus had experienced the annoyance firsthand last year and therefore didn't need to be reminded, but he listened anyway.

When they arrived at the Freeze King, Cronus parked and quickly got out, opening Rufioh's door and swinging around the back to open up Damara's and Meenah's doors as well. His father _had_ raised a gentleman, after all, although Cronus rarely showed his chivalrous side.

Damara patiently waited for him to open the door for her (she clearly remembered that from their brief time dating), but Meenah was already sliding out on her own by the time he got to her. Flicking at his ear, she said, "If I waited for boys to open doors for me, I'd never get anywhere."

"Oh." Cronus couldn't think of a witty rejoinder to that and so he simply closed the car door behind her. He rubbed his ear and the two of them followed Rufioh and Damara (she clinging to his arm and he smiling nervously) inside the Freeze King. Cronus would have offered Meenah his arm as well but he had a feeling she would flick his ear again.

It was a Friday night, so the Freeze King was fairly busy. The jukebox blared in the corner while someone stood in front of it, leafing through the selections. There were only a few tables open now; he recognized a few people from school in a few of the booths, meaning some of them had either not gone to the pep rally at all (he wouldn't have either if it hadn't been the meeting place for this awkward double-date) or simply left early like them. Whatever the reason, the joint was full enough for him to look around and say, "Uh-oh, looks like you're gonna have to sit on my lap, Meenah."

"I would if there were any _fin_ there to sit on," she replied sweetly.

Rufioh and Damara blinked in shock, but far from being offended, Cronus just laughed. He'd known Meenah had a rather sharp sense of humor, and that was fine with him. It was better than Damara's sense of humor—she was good for an occasional laugh but altogether made bad jokes that fell flat.

Rufioh pointed at a booth near the back. "Hey, look, that table's still open."

He didn't really want to sit back there—he had a thing about sitting in the middle of everything—but at least the booth had a good view of the door, so he let himself be steered toward the back. He got the impression that Rufioh wanted to have his privacy and, considering he was the one with the black eye and busted lip, Cronus was willing to give him that.

* * *

The bonfire was fading down to embers and a slight chill stung at the air, but Porrim didn't seem to notice. She'd hopped up on the hood of her mother's car and leaned back against the windshield, interlocking her fingers behind her head and closing her eyes. Kankri chose to stay close to her, sitting on the ground in front of the car, since Karkat had long since wandered off, as had Rose and Kanaya (although they were presumably together because they had gone arm-in-arm).

"You hungry, kid?" Porrim asked, gently nudging the back of his head with her foot.

A slight gnawing had settled into his stomach, although he wasn't sure if it was real hunger or just a very infective restlessness. He nodded.

"Then let's go see if we can find the others and get something to eat, yeah? I'm thinking the Freeze King. What do you say?"

"I've never eaten there."

"No?" She sounded surprised, and when he looked up and back, he saw that she was leaning forward on the hood. "Don't they have Freeze King in Louisiana? I thought it was a national chain."

Kankri shook his head. "Maybe not in my area, and before we moved here, the farthest I ever went from Lafayette was about ten miles. My parents didn't like to travel much, and Lafayette had everything we needed—school, stores, church... my grandparents lived a few houses down from us, too. Well, my father's parents. My mother's parents were... well, I never spoke to them. My mother says that they didn't want her to marry my father in the first place since she was Catholic and my father is obviously Pentecostal. My mother ended up converting and her parents never spoke to her again, but my father's parents were quite welcoming. And when my grandfather finally stepped down as pastor, my father took over for him, so that church was in our family for a long time. I didn't really—oh. I suppose I'm rambling again. I didn't answer your question, did I?"

"No, you did. And I don't mind the rambling right now. It's actually kind of interesting because you don't talk about your family when there's other people around."

"No, I suppose not."

"But to revisit our previous topic of conversation, how long have you been here? Haven't you eaten at Freeze King since you arrived?"

Kankri shook his head again. "My parents believe in preparing all of our own food ourselves. I mean, I'm sure they won't mind if we go, but we only have dinner at home. So, to answer your question, I don't know what they have at Freeze King, but I believe I would be willing to give it a try."

"Good." She ruffled his hair, hopped up to stand on the hood of the car, and let out a shrill, piercing whistle. "Go find Karkat—Kanaya and Rose will be along in a few moments."

"Oh, was _that_ what that was?" Kankri asked with just a hint of sarcasm, rubbing his ears.

"If you mean my patented little sister duck call, then yes."

Kankri stood up and headed off in the last direction he'd seen Karkat.

Lots of people had already left for the night, the greasers included. That made Kankri feel slightly more at-ease with wandering around looking for his brother. A few people were left, including the one boy he'd seen on the first day of school who'd mistook him for a freshman, and he was standing next to a girl in a dark-red skirt and talking to her. The boy hardly noticed him, but the girl did and she gave him a cheerful wave. He returned it and kept walking.

Apparently Porrim's "little sister duck call" had worked, because he saw Kanaya and Rose heading back to the car. "Have you seen Karkat?" he asked them, but they both shook their heads.

Fortunately, he ended up finding his younger brother a few minutes later. He was talking to another girl with red-framed cats-eye glasses and a teal sweater. They both stopped talking as he approached. "Hey, Karkat, Porrim says that if you're hungry, we can go to the Freeze King to get something to eat."

"I could eat," Karkat admitted. He looked back at the girl. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'll probably find Latula in a few minutes and head home."

"Okay. Yeah, um, if you need me..."

"I know where to find you." She gave him a half-smile. "Thanks."

Kankri got the sense that he'd intruded and felt a little bad, but it couldn't be helped now. He thought about inviting the girl to come with them, but if she'd arrived with others, they'd probably wonder where she went, and he also didn't know how Porrim would feel about another person tagging along. He felt a little awkward as the girl walked away, crossing her arms, but he pretended he didn't. "Let's get going—the others are waiting."

"Yeah, fine."

As Kankri suspected, Porrim, Kanaya, and Rose were already in the car by the time they got back, so he and Karkat hopped into the back without a word. Porrim turned up the radio on the drive over and the girls sang along to most of the songs, but neither Kankri nor Karkat had heard _any_ of these songs. Their father generally kept the radio in the family car tuned to talk or oldies stations, and all of the songs sounded fairly modern. But for once, it was nice to ride in a car without his father droning on and on about damnation and doom.

Freeze King looked packed when Porrim pulled into a space next to a dark-colored New Yorker, but far from seeming bothered, she grinned widely. "Oh, look, the gang's all here. Come on, we need to get to a table quick!"

Kankri followed her inside with the others tagging along behind them. Rose spotted a free table and they rushed to stake their claim, falling all over each other to squish into the booth.

" _Mister Sandman, bring me a dream..."_

Kankri cracked open the menu and realized that he only had fifty cents in his pocket. _I don't think that's going to be enough for both of us_ , he realized with a jolt of panic.

" _Make him the cutest that I've ever seen..."_

"Um, Porrim, I don't have very much money," he stuttered. "I only—"

" _Give him two lips, like roses and clover..."_

"Don't worry about it, darling," she said brightly. "My mom gave me enough money for all of us."

" _And tell him that his lonesome nights are over..."_

"Oh. Well, I should still contribute," Kankri insisted. "I have a little, see..." He fished around in his pocket and dug out the two quarters.

" _Sandman, I'm so alone..."_

"It's okay, really, Kankri. I got it. Put away your money."

" _Don't have nobody to call my own..."_

Kankri didn't think it was right that a girl would be paying for his food, but he did as she told him and put his money back in his pocket.

" _Please turn on your magic beam..."_

"So, any ideas what you're going to get?" Porrim asked, addressing the whole table this time.

" _Mister Sandman, bring me a dream."_

"I need to peruse the selection before I make my choice," Kanaya said lightly. Kankri privately agreed—he'd never seen anything like this before.

* * *

" _Mister Sandman, bring me a dream..."_

"Oh, my _cod_ , look who just sat down," Meenah hissed in his ear. Cronus shivered but grinned, looking to where she indicated. It was Porrim Maryam in a booth not too far from theirs, sitting next to a girl who was presumably her younger sister—she had the Maryam look, a regal posture, dark skin, and jade-green eyes—and another girl, a blond. Facing them were two boys who could have been brothers. Cronus didn't recognize the one, but the other in the red sweater, he definitely knew who that was. It was Kankri Vantas, a junior in his debate class.

" _Make him the cutest that I've ever seen..."_

"I can't get over that _glubbin'_ sweater, oh, my _cod_ ," Meenah went on, giggling.

" _Give him the word that I'm not a rover..."_

Rufioh and Damara twisted around to see who they were talking about. "Why is that new guy sitting with those whores?" Damara asked.

" _And tell him that his lonesome nights are over."_

"Oh, wow," Rufioh laughed, "that seems a little harsh."

" _Sandman, I'm so alone..."_

"Okay, well, I don't know about those other two girls, but Porrim _definitely_ is," Damara insisted.

" _Don't have nobody to call my own..."_

Meenah rolled her eyes. "I don't _pike_ her much, either, but I think callin' her a ho is kinda extreme."

" _Please turn on your magic beam..."_

Damara scoffed. "Well, forgive me for wondering why she's sitting with those random guys."

" _Mister Sandman, bring me a dream..."_

Cronus didn't join in for once. He wasn't quite sure why—that sweater of Kankri's was more than enough fodder for jokes, but he didn't feel like commenting on it. It actually rather seemed endearing, even. The junior had a tendency to talk a lot during class once he got on a roll, and it tended to be impressive bordering on downright award-worthy.

* * *

"Oh, great," Porrim muttered.

"What?" Kankri asked.

" _Mister Sandman (Yes?), bring us a dream..."_

"Looks like some of the Lost Boys are here," she said. She leaned back. "I didn't realize, but I think that was Cronus's car I parked next to."

" _Give him a pair of eyes with come-hither gleam..."_

Kankri's eyes widened. Porrim barely had time to squeak out, "Wait, don't—" before he whipped around in his seat and looked. For one dizzy second, his heart stopped—Cronus Ampora's ice-blue eyes were locked on him.

" _Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci..."_

"Quit staring," Porrim hissed. "They might come over here!"

" _And lots of wavy hair like Liberace..."_

Kankri wasn't quite sure why that particular lyric seeped into his consciousness, but in the split second before he turned back around, his cheeks heating up, he noticed that Cronus Ampora did have a lot of wavy hair. Despite the grease holding it back, it still looked soft, and he idly entertained the thought of running his fingers through it.

" _Mister Sandman, someone to hold (someone to hold)..."_

"I doubt it," Kanaya said. "They appear to be on a date. And Rufioh Nitram looks like he's already been in a fight tonight anyway."

" _Would be so peachy before we're too old..."_

"Nitram?" Rose asked. "Isn't that Tavros's last name? Are they brothers?"

" _So please turn on your magic beam..."_

"I believe so," Kanaya said. "There seems to be a resemblance between them, anyway. It's in the hair."

" _Mister Sandman, bring us..."_

Karkat gave Kankri a strange look that he tried his best to ignore. He knew he was still blushing for whatever reason (no, it was definitely _not_ because of how intense Cronus Ampora's gaze was—that was utterly ridiculous, he was completely normal) but he pretended he wasn't. Cronus Ampora was an asshole, after all. He was obnoxious in class whenever he did show up, and it created a disruptive learning environment.

" _Please, please, please..."_

Porrim also seemed to notice the effect Cronus had on him, because she cleared her throat and said, "Hey, why don't you just ignore them? They're real jerks, all of them—Cronus and Rufioh and Meenah and Damara. Don't worry about them. They—well, okay, maybe not Rufioh, but the rest of them have given me so much shit since freshman year it's ridiculous. And I thought Cronus was kind of nice last year, but trust me, he's a total jerk."

" _Mister Sandman, bring us a dream."_

Kankri nodded. He knew deep down that she was right. Without saying anything, he began deciding what he was going to eat.


	15. Chapter 15

As the bonfire burned down to embers, Harley suggested a movie since her grandfather thought she was out with Jake (which was partly true, if not entirely accurate). She happened to suggest it with Dave within earshot and he immediately started whining about how _he_ wanted to go see a movie, too. Dirk was really close to telling both of them to fuck off, but then he caught sight of Jake over their shoulders nodding sharply, his eyes wide, and then his brain started working. It was a really good idea, actually. Especially since he'd been so preoccupied with actually taking Jake out on a date—right now, this was as close as they could get.

"Sure, fine. Let's go see a movie. Jake, you wanna come, too?"

"Smashing!" Jake said, as though the idea hadn't occurred to him. "I call shotgun!"

Dave groaned and smacked his forehead. Dirk grinned internally. Harley just jumped up and down excitedly.

Dave had to abide by the shotgun rules, so when Dirk got into the driver's seat, it was Jake sliding in next to him. He was able to keep his grin contained as he drove, but he had to take his sunglasses off as he drove since it was already dark. He wasn't used to monitoring where he looked because people couldn't see through his glasses, but now he had to be very careful not to glance at Jake too much.

Harley probably wouldn't have noticed—she was drooping off in the back but would most likely wake up once he pulled in—but Dave on the other hand... Well, Dirk wasn't sure where _he_ was looking, but he had a few ideas.

He tried to ignore that, though. He was heading to a drive-in with his boyfriend beside him, his brother in the back, and his boyfriend's cousin next to him. Sure, it wasn't ideal, but it was better than sneaking kisses in a school bathroom.

It was a double-feature showing, so Dave jumped out of the car and went right to the concession stand. Fortunately, Harley went with him, leaving Dirk and Jake alone.

"Fuck, I thought they'd never leave," Dirk said, sliding his sunglasses back on.

"They'll be back," Jake pointed out.

Dirk exhaled sharply, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I know. But... at least we're out, right?"

"Right." Jake pressed a reassuring hand atop Dirk's and smiled. "It was a good idea. We should really thank Jade."

Dirk nearly snorted with laughter. "And how would we do that? 'Hey, Harley, thanks for suggesting the movie so your cousin and I could pretend to be on a real date'?"

Jake's smile slipped away. "I wasn't aware we were pretending."

The senior knew immediately he'd fucked up. "That's not... not what I meant." He gave an exasperated groan. "I just meant that..." He trailed off. He couldn't quite figure out how to say what he'd actually meant.

"Well?" Jake prompted, half-turning in the seat to face him.

"Well, people... you know how they are. Nothing's official until everyone knows about it. But they _can't_ know about this. So... where does that leave us?"

"I don't think the inherent publicity or lack thereof of our relationship is any reason to doubt its validity," Jake said quietly. "As long as we both accept it for what it is, right?"

Dirk nodded slowly although he wasn't entirely convinced. "I guess so." Around him were happy boy-girl couples making out and laughing and enjoying their popcorn and hot dogs and sodas, and it just drove home to him how the two of them—him and Jake—would never be a part of it. Before he could say anything else, though, Dave and Harley scrambled back to the car, hopped in the back, and started passing out the food they'd gotten.

"Burger and fries," Dave said, passing the little basket to Dirk, "burger and fries," he added, handing another basket to Jake, "burger and fries for Harley... and popcorn for me."

"Sodas!" Harley announcing, passing out the cups.

Dave gave a satisfied huff as he leaned back in the seat, and then he groaned. "Dirk, I can't see. Your big head's in the way."

"Psst," Harley whispered, tapping on Jake's shoulder. "Can you switch with me? I can't see around you."

Dirk and Jake exchanged glances. The senior heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, little dude, just give me a second." He and Jake switched places with Dave and Harley, but not before Dirk took the key out of the ignition and pocketed it. Dack would kill him if he let Dave drive under any circumstances (barring unforeseen emergencies, but it wouldn't come to that).

Once they were in the back, the whole perspective changed. Dave couldn't see them unless he turned completely around—the rearview mirror was angled over their heads. Harley couldn't see them, either. For all intents and purposes, they were completely unsupervised, and Dirk kind of liked that. True, they still couldn't make out or anything, but they squeezed close together in the middle so they could see over the head rests, and if Jake's fingers pressed into his through the first movie and he squeezed back, no one could tell, least of all his brother or Jake's cousin.

But the peace was interrupted in between the first and second movies, when a dark-colored New Yorker pulled into the space next to theirs, the engine growling menacingly. Dirk looked over, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses, and got an eyeful of the occupants.

 _Shit._ Cronus Ampora and Meenah Peixes were in the front seat with Rufioh Nitram and Damara Megido in the back. He was fairly cool with The Lost Boys—in his opinion, the Makaras were the worst two of the bunch—but right now, he didn't want to see them—he didn't even want to _look_ at them. Unfortunately for him, the four of them were being incredibly rowdy, talking and laughing and generally making nuisances of themselves.

Dirk wasn't in the mood for a confrontation tonight, though—he was on a date of his own, and it seemed like the four of them in Ampora's New Yorker were on a double-date, if the way Damara was practically sitting on Rufioh was any indication. He slunk down in his seat and held Jake's hand a little tighter.

* * *

Cronus had intercepted the check before anyone could so much as look at it, and once he'd paid, the four of them left the Freeze King in a hurry. They cruised around in Cronus's car for about twenty minutes before Rufioh suggested they drop the girls off and go home. Part of him really did enjoy the attention Damara showered on him, but there was only so much mental abuse he could take before he was ready to call it a night. The idea got shot down almost immediately, though, and Damara suggested an alternative: a drive-in movie. They'd already missed the first movie of the double feature that was playing tonight, but they could still make the second. Besides, it wasn't the movie that was important—it was what went on _during_ the movie.

That was exactly why Rufioh was hoping Cronus would reject the idea—even _thinking_ about seeing the guy he had a massive crush on making out with a girl would tear him up.

He dug his nails into his palms as Cronus tilted his head up, thinking it over. He had a nice-looking neck, actually—not that it was the first time Rufioh had noticed it. He'd noticed it hundreds of times over the past three years. He tried not to think of how much he wanted to run his lips and tongue over the soft skin of his neck to find out how it would feel, how it would taste—

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Cronus said abruptly.

 _Fuck._ Rufioh swallowed hard as Damara cheered and Meenah grinned. Damara threw her arms around Rufioh and he gamely slung an arm around her. She stayed firmly curled up beside him, kicking her feet up on the seat next to her, for the duration of the ride to the drive-in.

When they pulled in next to a black Monterey, the second movie hadn't started yet. The three of them—Cronus, Meenah, and Damara—were talking and laughing, and Rufioh desperately wanted to get out of the car and go to the bathroom or just walk around, _something_ to get away from these people who would hate him if they really knew him, but he was stuck. He half-glanced to his right and briefly locked eyes (he thought—it was always so hard to tell with those glasses of his) with Dirk Strider, who was sitting in the back of the Monterey with some junior he didn't know. Dirk's brother Dave was in the driver's seat and a girl was sitting next to him, and all four of them seemed to be engrossed in the commercials that played on the screen. He wished he could be like them—happy and _normal_ and just able to spend time with his friends without feeling like a freak.

He closed his eyes and tightened the arm that was around Damara's waist. She hummed happily against his chest and snuggled tighter into him.

"Hey, Cro, let's go get some snacks," he heard Meenah say from the front seat. Rufioh's eyes opened as she went on. "Y'know, an' leave these two love-fish alone for a bit."

His stomach turned and his eyes widened. He looked imploringly at Cronus. "You don't have to—"

"Nah, Rufi, it's fine," Cronus said with an over-dramatic wink. "We've been up in each other's faces all night—you cats should at least have a few minutes to yourselves." He focused his attention on Meenah. "Snack bar, then?"

The two of them slid out of the car, leaving Rufioh and Damara completely alone. His heart was racing and he knew she could hear it, but he didn't know which was worse—the idea of Cronus making out with Meenah right in front of him, or not knowing whether or not they were making out somewhere else.

"You nervous?" Damara asked playfully.

"A little," he admitted. _Not for any reasons you think, though._

"Don't worry," she said, "I'm not gonna hurt you or anything." She smiled at him and he tried to smile back, but it probably ended up looking like more of a grimace.

"I—I know."

"Good." She leaned up and pressed a light, chaste kiss to his lips. "I get that you're nervous, though. And _they_ really aren't helping, either," she added, and there was no doubt in his mind that by _they_ , she meant Cronus and Damara.

"Yeah, not really."

"And that's fine." She brushed a few strands of his hair back. "It's fine if you want to take this slow—I was really nervous before my first time, too."

He'd _known_ Damara wasn't a virgin—how many times had he heard Cronus bragging about all the girls he'd slept with? And they'd dated last year, after all. Had Cronus been her first, or was it someone else?

The commercials faded out, replaced by the logo of the movie production company, and there was a sudden flurry of activity as people rushed back to their cars. A few seconds later, Cronus and Meenah appeared—hand in hand, he saw with an unpleasant jolt—and he reminded himself that he never had a chance with Cronus anyway, so what was the point?

It still stung, though.

It was even worse when, as he suspected, Cronus and Meenah started making out in the middle of the movie. She actually climbed into his lap, sitting astride him, and Rufioh had to fight to keep up his appearance of outward calm. Inside, he was screaming, trying not to throw up, trying not to cry. It hurt. It hurt worse than anything he'd ever felt before, including all the times his dad beat him. He didn't know what to do besides sit there and pray for an end—to the movie, to the making out, to his life, he didn't really care which right now.

Besides, it was awkward when there were people making out in such close proximity in the first place—Rufioh really wouldn't have known what to do with himself even if he didn't have such a massive crush on Cronus. That probably explained why Damara started kissing his neck.

He closed his eyes again and tried to pretend that it was Cronus, not Damara, but her lips were too soft and too small to be his—not that he'd know from personal experience, but Cronus did have a wider mouth than her, one he'd wanted to kiss for a really long time now...

He turned his head and kissed her anyway. If he concentrated really hard, he could almost completely fool himself into believing she was Cronus, and that was enough. There were still unpleasant slips, like when she pressed herself closer to him and he could feel her breasts against his shirt or when her long hair skimmed his cheek or when he caught a whiff of her perfume. Actually, it was really difficult for him to maintain the illusion because there was nothing even remotely similar about her and Cronus, but he tried.

He was still grateful when it was over.

* * *

He probably still had Meenah's lipstick smeared on his lips and jaw, but he wasn't even _close_ to the realm of caring. The night wasn't even over, and it had already gone quite a bit better than he expected.

He certainly hadn't anticipated Meenah actually climbing into his lap to make out with him, but he wasn't going to say no. And then Rufioh and Damara had started making out, too, which eased the slight awkwardness he felt, and he would have reached into the back seat to high-five him if either of them had been in a position to make it easy. But that wasn't possible, not that he was too upset about it. He was more worried about Rufioh in this situation, anyway—that kiss with Damara had been his first kiss and Cronus was pretty sure this was his first date, so he needed the extra push.

Which was why he'd so readily agreed to go with Meenah to get snacks—Rufioh and Damara really did need a bit of time to themselves. But that led to a slew of other questions. They were almost definitely going to be going on more dates, but Rufioh didn't have a car of his own and his father probably wasn't in any kind of mood to let Rufioh drive his car, and Cronus was pretty sure Rufioh wouldn't want to keep doing the double-date thing. So how would they ever get anywhere?

Cronus briefly contemplated letting Rufioh borrow _his_ car, but he didn't like the prospect of Rufioh and Damara fucking in his back seat, so he mentally dismissed it. He'd think of something, though.

And if his thoughts sometimes strayed to the junior in the red sweater, it was only because he had never seen a sweater that brightly red before in his life, and certainly no one who could pull it off as well as him.


	16. Chapter 16

They dropped off Damara and Meenah at the Peixes house, where Aranea, Vriska, Feferi, and probably Aradia were already waiting. Rufioh gamely helped Damara out of Cronus's car and walked her to the door of the massive house with Cronus and Meenah hanging back.

"I had a really great time tonight," Damara gushed happily.

He rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Yeah, me too."

"Thanks." She blushed and tugged on the sleeves of her jacket—actually, it was _his_ jacket, since she'd gotten a little cold in the back seat, and he'd gallantly offered her his jacket. "I guess I should probably give this back to you, huh?" she added.

"Yeah..." He was only wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and goose bumps were raising on his arms. "It's kinda cold out here, doll."

She shrugged out of his jacket and draped it back over his shoulders. "Oh, here!" She pulled out a tube of lipstick and grabbed his arm. Before he could even ask what she was doing, she was scribbling her phone number on his arm. "If you want, you can call me this weekend." She smiled. "I'll see you on Monday, then."

"Yeah. See you Monday."

She blushed again and quickly pressed her lips to Rufioh's before retreating into Meenah's house.

He swallowed hard and carefully threaded his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, heading back to Cronus's car while he and Meenah went to the front door. He had to watch while the two of them talked for a few moments, too quietly for him to hear, and he patted down his pockets for a cigarette.

He wrinkled his nose as he found his pack and the book of matches. The leather of his jacket had somehow absorbed the smell of Damara's perfume. He'd have to keep it in the closet all weekend in order to overpower it again.

He forced himself to look away when they started kissing. It probably wouldn't go on too long—he could see Aranea peering out at Cronus and Meenah from a second-story window, looking livid as she surveyed the scene. He wondered what her deal was with Cronus. Yeah, he wasn't the nicest guy sometimes, but it almost seemed like she was almost jealous of him.

Just like he was jealous of Meenah.

_Oh._ What if she _was_? That would certainly answer a lot of questions. It made sense, too—he recognized himself in a lot of things she said about Cronus.

They finally disentangled themselves and she went inside, closing the door behind her. Cronus shoved his hands in his pockets and practically skipped down the steps and to the car. "Overall, quite a rewardin' evenin', huh?"

"I guess she likes you a lot," Rufioh guessed.

He shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I'm tryin' to live in the moment, though. Damara _really_ likes you, though," he added, nudging Rufioh with his elbow.

"Yeah, she does," he mumbled.

He tried to keep his thoughts anywhere but her or the boy sitting on his left, but as they drew closer to his house, he felt more and more choked. He couldn't stay here next to Cronus and he didn't want to go home to face down his father again and he didn't want to do _anything_ but avoid everything for a good long time. "Just drop me here," he said as Cronus rounded the corner next to a gas station where a blue pickup was parked next to a pump.

"Huh?"

"Just drop me off here," Rufioh repeated, realizing he sounded close to hysteria and not being able to contain it.

Cronus slowed and turned into the gas station. "Are you sure? You okay?"

"I just feel like walkin' the rest of the way, okay?" he practically snapped. As he spoke, the cut on his lip split open and he tasted blood again. His heart was pounding in his chest, making his eye throb that much worse, and all he wanted was to be out of this car and away from Cronus Ampora.

Cronus blinked and then nodded. "Okay. It's cool, man. Just be careful, okay? Don't want you gettin' mugged or somethin'."

"I'll be fine." Rufioh got out and slammed the door behind him. Cronus idled there for a few moments before pulling out and heading off in the opposite direction, toward his own house.

Rufioh sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He finished off his cigarette and flicked it away, eyeing the blue pickup, but the cab was empty.

The door to the store opened and some guy in a letterman jacket strolled out. The jacket was the only reason he knew for sure that the guy went to Lakeside, too—the red and purple was pretty distinctive. Otherwise, he only had the vague feeling of having a class or two with him to indicate that he knew him. He probably _should_ have known him, honestly, since there was a violet _'56_ on the shoulder of the jacket—he was a senior, too.

It took him three seconds to realize that the jock had stopped halfway between the store and the truck and was looking right at him. Rufioh swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets, starting to walk away.

"Rufioh! Rufioh Nitram, right?"

He spun around. This guy _knew_ him? "Uh, yeah. Sorry, I don't know your name."

"Horuss Zahhak. Do you..." Zahhak looked a little apprehensive and absently tugged on his hair for a second. "Do you need a ride somewhere? I saw you at the rally but I thought you were with..."

"The Lost Boys, yeah. I was. I..." _What do I say?_ Zahhak was a practically a stranger to him. "It's a long story."

Looking as awkward as Rufioh felt, Zahhak waved his hand toward the truck. "If you like, I can give you a ride home."

He didn't know what to say. Now that he was out here, he felt much less constricted. Being away from Cronus put him more at-ease, and even though he could still feel the stickiness of Damara's lipstick on his arm, he could breathe again. Besides, Zahhak seemed sincere enough.

"You, ah, look like you've had a rough night," Zahhak added, and Rufioh was forcibly reminded that his lip was probably still bleeding and he still had a black eye. Zahhak could probably see it.

"That's puttin' it mildly," Rufioh muttered. "Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't."

It only took him another two seconds to decide. "Yeah, alright. I don't live too far from here, actually."

* * *

Kankri and Karkat crept up to the door and Kankri fit his key into the lock. The porch light was still on for them but the kitchen light and living room light were both out. It was only eleven-fifteen or so, but it was entirely possible that their parents had already gone to bed. Kankri certainly _hoped_ they were asleep, anyway. He and Karkat were a little later than the eleven o'clock guess Porrim had given their parents.

The hinges creaked when the door opened and Kankri cringed. The sound could have woken the whole state. Finally, the door was open wide enough to admit them one at a time, and Kankri let Karkat sneak in before him. He closed the door behind them as quietly as possible and Karkat started off toward his room, but Kankri elbowed him hard and pointed down.

Karkat gave him a puzzled look until Kankri took off his shoes. Socks would be much quieter on the wood floors than their shoes.

Following his lead, Karkat took off his own shoes, and they crept down the hall to their rooms. They'd escaped detection for the time being, and that was the way Kankri wanted it right now. He needed a bit of peace from the action-packed day he'd had.

Once he was in his room, he quickly changed into his pajamas and snuggled under the covers. It had been a very hectic day and he was exhausted, but sleep didn't come as easily as he hoped. His mind was still stuck skipping like a broken record on those few seconds at the Freeze King.

Cronus Ampora had been flat-out staring at him, and it wasn't the kind of stare he was used to getting from people. He was used to hostile looks, glares, and laughter that was definitely from making fun of him. He wasn't used to that intrigued look Ampora had given him, and he definitely wasn't used to the way his cheeks heated up in response. But he could acknowledge that, with eyes like that, it was no surprise he was there on a date. Ampora _was_ rather handsome, even if he was also a jerk.

But why had Ampora been looking at him like that in the first place? He supposed he could have understood it if he were a girl, but...

Kankri let out a ragged gasp, muffled by the sleeve of his pajama shirt. There was no way. Cronus Ampora wasn't the kind of guy who wanted to have sex with other guys—he just wasn't. He didn't look like the type at all.

_And I'm definitely not that kind of guy, either_ , he reminded himself. He rolled over and forced his eyes closed. He was not going to think about it anymore—not when he'd promised his mother he'd help with breakfast the next morning. He really needed to get to sleep.

* * *

"What a weird guy," Cronus muttered to himself, eyeing the disappearing form of Rufioh in his rearview mirror. He'd thought that everything had gone pretty well tonight, all things considered. He suspected that Damara had pushed Rufioh a little past his comfort zone, but it was for his own good. The guy hadn't even been kissed before, much less been on an actual date. He needed to be pushed.

And then there was the thing with Meenah. She'd warmed up to him quite a bit tonight—whether because she actually liked him or she just wanted to get laid, he didn't really care. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dated a girl only for the sex. Not that they were dating right now, and not that they'd had sex yet. It was all up in the air, and he was content to wait to see what happened on its own. There was no need to force anything there.

But after they'd dropped the girls off, Rufioh had seemed pretty tense until he finally demanded that Cronus pull over and let him out. He hadn't felt right about just leaving him at the gas station, but he'd insisted, so what reason did he have for not listening?

As he drove away, though, he realized that maybe the night hadn't been so great for Rufioh. Maybe it was a lot to handle all at once. That was fine. And maybe he wanted to prolong the time before he got home to that jackass of a father of his.

Cronus reflexively looked back even though Rufioh was long out of sight. He had to admit that, were there positions reversed, he wouldn't be too anxious to return home, either. Living at the Nitram house couldn't have been easy.

He pulled into the driveway of his house a few minutes later. Someone had left the porch light on for him—probably Eridan, since his parents knew he stayed out late whenever he could. He found himself oddly touched by the gesture even though he didn't really consider himself the sentimental type. At least there was someone in his family who'd leave the light on for him.

The rest of the house was dark. He flipped the porch light off as he shut the door behind him and slunk up the stairs as quietly as he could. At the top, he hovered for a moment, looking toward Eridan's door. At the last second, he crept to the door and pressed his ear to it. Everything was quiet inside, so he gingerly opened the door and poked his head in.

Eridan was already asleep, his arm dangling over the side of the bed and his covers pulled up to his nose. He was snoring softly and, as Cronus watched, he turned over and something fell out of his other hand and to the floor.

Cronus furrowed his brows. It looked like a comic book, but he thought Eridan had stopped buying those two years ago. Apparently not, though—this one looked recent. It had a wizard on the cover and he grinned to himself as he crept in and picked it up. He set the comic book on Eridan's nightstand and then slid his brother's glasses from his face—he'd fallen asleep reading, it seemed. His brotherly deed for the month accomplished, he slipped back out of Eridan's room, closed the door, and continued to his own bedroom.

It was a good long while before he fell asleep, but when he finally did, he dreamed of red sweaters and chatty juniors.

* * *

"Thanks for the ride," Rufioh said, hopping out of the cab of Zahhak's truck. "I appreciate it."

"It's no problem," Zahhak said. "If you ever need a ride again, let me know."

His chest felt light but that was stupid, Zahhak didn't mean anything by it. Still, Rufioh found it hard to look away from him—he had blue eyes like Cronus, but they were softer, kinder. His hair was oddly long, almost like a girl's, but it just made him more striking-looking. Rufioh found himself unwilling to close the door on him. "Thanks, Zahhak. I'll do that."

Zahhak smiled and Rufioh wondered how he hadn't noticed him before. Was it because he was a greaser and Zahhak was a jock? Was that the only reason this boy had escaped his notice in the three years they'd gone to school together? That smile was a killer. "Please, call me Horuss. I believe we're on a first-name basis now, Rufioh."

Rufioh nodded, feeling an unforced smile slide across his face in response. For some reason, he really liked hearing his name from Horuss's mouth. "Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks, Horuss," he added.

Horuss's smile widened. "Have a nice night."

"Yeah, you too." Rufioh finally, reluctantly, closed the door to Horuss's truck and went up to his house. Even from outside, he could hear one of the dogs barking—it was probably Tink. She always waited by the door until he got home.

He opened the front door and, sure enough, Tink was waiting right there, looking up at him. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Horuss's truck roar off, and he smiled to himself. He'd never really had anything against jocks per se—The Lost Boys tended to be ostracized from most other social groups at school, jocks included, but he never harbored any animosity toward them. Cronus and the Makaras talked shit about pretty much everyone, but Horuss obviously didn't care. He was nice to him anyway.

He crouched down to run his fingers over his dog's head. Most of the dogs belonged to his dad, but Tink was _his_ dog. She'd been his from the moment she was born. "Hey, girl. Tav make it home okay?" he asked, as though she could answer.

She kind of could though. She nodded slightly and licked at his wrist, reminding him that Damara had written her number on his arm.

"I guess I better take care of that, huh? Don't want you gettin' sick from eatin' lipstick."

She trailed after him to his bedroom where he hung up his jacket, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and transcribed Damara's number. Maybe he'd call her on Sunday, just to talk. Hopefully he could steer the conversation toward something besides _them_.

Tink followed him to the bathroom afterward and watched him scrub the red lipstick from his arm. "Don't ever give guys your number this way," he instructed her. "It smeared in the sleeve of my jacket."

She barked quietly in acknowledgement.

He peeked in on Tavros, who was already asleep, before heading back to his room. Tink jumped up on his bed and watched him change into pajamas and scooted toward the head of the bed when he turned off the light and climbed under the covers. He fell asleep feeling surprisingly content—some combination of having his dog under his arm and Horuss... yeah, if he didn't watch himself, he might actually find himself getting over Cronus, and while that was a good thing, he wasn't sure that liking Horuss was a smart alternative.

It would certainly sting less to like someone who wasn't his closest friend, though.


	17. Chapter 17

A chorus of laughter and cheering greeted Meenah and Damara when they got upstairs to Meenah's bedroom. Roxy stumbled over to them and pulled them both into an awkward hug. "Hey, dolls! Wha's hap'nin'? How was your _date_?" she asked, drawing out the word _date_ until it had about ten vowels. She was clearly already drunk, although there weren't many times when she _wasn't_ drunk.

" _Fin_ tastic," Meenah said, pointedly ignoring the glower on Aranea's face.

"Who were you guys out with ag'in?"

"Cro Ampora an' Rufi Nitram." She patted the top of Roxy's head and unwound her arm from the stranglehold she had on Damara's neck. Now freed, Damara practically skipped over to where Aradia was sitting between Feferi's legs while Meenah's younger sister brushed her hair. Meenah may not have been too crazy about either of the Megidos—they could have been worse, she supposed—but it made her happy that Feferi had joined in on their impromptu sleepover and that she'd automatically clicked with Damara's sister.

Roxy collapsed in a heap next to Vriska, who was filing her nails and taking sips from Roxy's bottle of wine. Vriska laughed and helped Roxy sit up, and Meenah went to sit with them, too. The only one of the Fuchsia Ladies who didn't look to be having a good time was Aranea.

The elder Serket stayed sitting by the window, nursing a bottle of beer and looking sulky. Part of Meenah wanted to find out what was wrong, but Aranea had been in this pissy mood for hours and it was starting to wear on her last nerves. To distract herself, she turned her attention to Damara and her recounting of the night. She'd been there and didn't need to listen, but she wanted to hear this anyway. It was obvious she was crazy about Rufioh—she'd been gushing about him nonstop for like a year now. Meenah imagined that finally going on a date with someone she'd been pining after for a year warranted a fair bit of excitement.

"...and he had a black eye, but he didn't say why. But he was so _sweet_ , and it was his first kiss, too! I couldn't believe it! Oh, he's so cute and so shy!"

Roxy tumbled backward, laughing. "Wha' did you guys _dooooo_?"

Damara grinned and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Well, we started off at the bonfire, and then we went to the Freeze King and then we caught the last movie of a drive-in double-feature and Meenah and Cronus left us alone for awhile so we got a chance to really talk." Meenah could practically see the hearts pouring out of her eyes and it was almost cute.

Her own evening with Cronus had been surprisingly enjoyable, too, although she certainly wasn't head over heels for him like Damara was for Rufioh. Cronus wasn't bad company, though, and he was a decent kisser, too. She genuinely did not understand what Aranea's problem with him was. He wasn't even that much of a jackass when you got him alone—he put up a façade at school but when he wasn't there, he bordered on sweet.

Feferi put her brush aside and began gathering up Aradia's hair to braid it while Aradia groped for a bottle of dark red nail polish and grabbed Damara's hand. "Sounds like you had a great time then," she said. She unscrewed the brush and started painting her sister's nails.

"Oh, yeah!" Damara heaved an overly dramatic sigh and fanned herself off with her free hand. "Girls, I am in love, and I think you are all looking at the future Mrs. Rufioh Nitram."

And that was where Meenah drew the line. She turned her head to hide her gagging motion and grabbed Roxy's bottle of wine.

"Awwww, congrats, baby!" Roxy slurred happily. "I hope you have like four hundred whiny little brats!"

Damara let out a shrill giggle and covered her mouth. "Oh, my God, Roxy, you're fucking crazy. I don't want four hundred kids!"

Which was probably the smartest thing she'd said all night, in Meenah's opinion.

"Oh, but I _did_ give him my number," she added.

"In lipstick. On his arm," Meenah interjected.

"Well, what else was I _supposed_ to do? I didn't have a pen!"

Meenah supposed she had a point but she still thought it was a stupid gesture. To hide her disdain, she took another swig from Roxy's wine bottle and handed it back to Vriska, who finished it off.

"Sorry, Rox. We drank all the wine." Vriska grinned. " _All_ of it."

"No, not all a' it!" Roxy twisted around and rolled over to her overnight bag, set in a corner. She unzipped it and rifled around for a minute. "Oh. Well, yeah, th' wine's gone, but I still got vo'ka!"

"Girl, ya' best hand that shit over right glubbin' now," Meenah said, holding out her hand.

Roxy immediately fished out the bottle and gave it to her while Vriska began patting down her pockets for cigarettes.

"Hey, sis, open that window, would you?" she asked. She located a pack and took one out. "Anyone else want one?"

Aranea grudgingly opened up the window and the still-warm night air floated in. Meenah snagged a cigarette from the pack Vriska started to pass around and tossed it to Roxy. She, Damara, and Aradia all took one, but Feferi and Aranea opted out. Still, by the time Meenah took a swig of Roxy's vodka and lit her cigarette, there was a fair cloud of smoke in the room and she was glad Vriska had thought to open the window. Meenah's parents hadn't _expressly_ forbidden her from smoking in her room, but she didn't want to call down their ire just in case.

Vriska casually stood up and went to Meenah's record collection. She started rifling through them until she found one she liked and put it on the turntable. "So, Meenah," she said slowly and deliberately as she dropped the needle, "we've all heard how much fun Damara had with bull-boy." Frank Sinatra's smooth voice began floating through the air and Vriska turned around, casually leaning back against the turntable. She grinned. "What about you and Cronus? You two seemed pretty cozy when he dropped you guys off."

Meenah could practically hear Aranea's brain sizzling as she seethed, and Vriska seemed extremely aware of the effect her words were having on her sister. In fact, Meenah got the impression that she'd intended for that to happen. She just knew how to steal the light from any situation.

Aranea and Vriska got along fairly well most of the time, but sometimes they went after each other and just pissed each other off. Right now seemed to be the latter. _Alright, then. I'll play along._

She spared a cursory glance at Aranea before replying, " _Whale_ , he was _reel_ nice the whole time, an' we made out a lot." She took a long drag on her cigarette. "Oh, an' he felt me up, too," she added on sudden inspiration. It was a completely bald-faced lie, but no one else would know that.

" _What?_ " Damara demanded. "When was _that_?"

_Shit._ Meenah turned to glare at her. "When we were gone an' you an' Rufi were in the back seat _glubbin_ ' or makin' out or whatever the hell it was you were doin'. We were havin' some fun of our own."

"Oh." Damara grinned sheepishly, apparently satisfied with that explanation.

Aranea, however, was far less satisfied. She let out a frustrated groan and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

"Fuck," Meenah muttered. "Now my parents are gonna be _reel_ pissed. The last thing they wanna hear at goddamn eleven at night is door-slammin'. What the fuck is her problem, anyway?" This, she addressed to Vriska, who shrugged. "I mean, I know she don't like Cro, but this is goddamn ridiculous."

"The inner workings of my sister's mind are a mystery to me," Vriska said lightly. She took a drag on her cigarette and reached for the bottle of vodka that had settled in front of Roxy. The blonde handed it over, nearly tumbling into Meenah's lap in the process.

"You could always ask her," Feferi said. She was already halfway done with braiding up Aradia's curls, and Aradia was nearly finished painting all of Damara's nails.

"Yeah, tried that already."

"Ask her again."

"An' why would she tell me _now_ when she didn't before?"

"She's drunk!" Roxy slurred. "Or at least, she's been drinkin'. She migh' jus' tell you now."

Meenah had to admit that Roxy had a point. She got unsteadily to her feet and followed Aranea out of the bedroom. From there, she vaguely remembered hearing Aranea's footsteps retreating down the hallway and down the stairs, but from there—

Downstairs, the sliding door opened and then closed. _Backyard._ Meenah hurried after her, down the stairs and through the parlor, the dining room, and the living room, but she stopped in front of the sliding door.

Aranea was out there, all right. She pulled her arm back and threw the empty beer bottle with all of her strength, and it disappeared into the grass beyond the Peixes family pool. Meenah could hear her grunt with effort before she dropped her arm and gazed after it. For a few moments, she was completely still, and Meenah put her hand on the handle of the door and waited.

And then, taking Meenah completely by surprise, Aranea dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders already shaking from crying. _Oh, fuck._ Something really _was_ wrong—Aranea hardly ever cried, and certainly about nothing trivial. Without another second of hesitation, Meenah pulled the door open and rushed outside.

Aranea spun around at the sound, pulling her glasses off and already starting to wipe away her tears, but it was too late—Meenah had already seen them. "Girl, talk to me," she said, closing the distance between them and grabbing Aranea's hands. "Some _fin_ 's wrong an' ya' gotta tell me what."

"Why?" Aranea asked quietly. She didn't try to wrench her hands away. If anything, she seemed to lean a little closer.

"Because we're _fronds_ , that's why. I care about ya', even if I do rag on ya' from time to time. Come on, that's what _fronds_ do. Some _fin_ 's buggin' ya', an' ya' ain't tellin' me. That's a problem."

Aranea blinked once or twice, her wide brown eyes filling up with tears again. "Trust me. If I tell you, you'll hate me."

"What kinda friend do ya' take me for?" Meenah asked, deliberately dropping the pun that she could have used to demonstrate how serious she was. "I'm sure it's not that bad. What's your deal with Cronus? He really ain't that bad."

"Well..." Aranea looked down at their shoes. "It's just..." She looked up, seeming to debate with herself for a few moments.

And then Aranea kissed her.

Meenah's breath caught in her chest and she automatically closed her eyes. She dizzily wondered how just a pair of lips against her own was enough to make her feel like she was floating because that's what it felt like, that her feet had lifted off the grass.

Aranea pulled back, blushing. "Sorry," she said quietly, looking back down. Her hands still in Meenah's, she twisted her fingers together and played with her glasses.

The kiss had only lasted a few seconds, but to Meenah, it seemed like it had gone on for years and somehow, it still wasn't enough. It was a lot different than kissing Cronus with the height difference and how different they smelled and how he always seemed to jump right to the "let's shove our tongues in each other's mouths" stage, but it wasn't a bad kind of different. "It's okay," she said faintly. "Is that why ya' hate him so much? Because you're jealous of him?"

"I'm not _jealous_ of him. I just... don't like the idea of him kissing you, that's all."

"Because _you_ like me," Meenah half-guessed.

Aranea sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah. I suppose so."

Meenah didn't need to hear any more. Aranea had just admitted that she liked her. Her heart was racing and all she could think to do was press her mouth to Aranea's again.

She let out a squeak of surprise, tugged her hands out of Meenah's grasp, and threw her arms around her neck. Her own hands now free, Meenah was able to slide them around Aranea's waist, and the taller girl took a step closer to press her body against Meenah's.

_You're kissing a_ girl _!_ some voice in her brain screamed at her, but she told that annoying voice to shut up. It was just a kiss, after all, and it made her feel lighter than air, as though she could float off and become a constellation if she didn't have Aranea to hold her and anchor her in place. It was certainly a better kiss than one she'd ever gotten from Cronus, and this was far more intimate than any kiss they'd ever shared. Besides, it was _Aranea_. They'd been friends since middle school. They...

She couldn't think very well anymore. Aranea had tilted her head to the side, changing the angle slightly, and all of Meenah's brainpower was stuttering on how good Aranea's lips felt on hers. And then one thought managed to bubble to the surface.

"How long?" she asked, barely pulling back.

"Huh?" Aranea asked ineloquently.

"How long have ya' liked me?"

She pulled back a little, brushing her bangs back from her face. "Since... since sophomore year, I think. Maybe earlier. I don't know—there wasn't some big event that triggered it or something. It just kind of... happened, I guess. But I think I realized it... I don't know, a few months ago, maybe? Like, looking back on it, I think I always kind of _knew_ , even though I didn't really know, if that makes sense."

"Almost some."

"I'm sorry, I know I'm not making any sense—I just can't think right now. It's all..." She waved her hands. "It's kind of overwhelming. Like I tell you I like you and I kiss you and you don't freak out or seem to hate me and... I don't know, I guess I thought you'd call me a freak or something and never want to talk to me again."

"I don't hate ya'," Meenah said. "That bein' said, I... I don't really know what my feelin's are doin' right now. I know I _definitely_ like kissin' ya' an' I like _you_ , too, but I don't know how much." Now that they weren't kissing anymore and she could actually breathe, she began to wonder—even if she _did_ like Aranea just as much as Aranea liked her, what did it mean? They couldn't really be together, could they?

And then there was Cronus. She liked _him_ , too, but in a different way. She just wasn't sure how much she liked him, either. Besides, it would be really difficult to justify not going on another date with him because of Aranea's feelings.

"Let's just go inside," Meenah said after a few moments. "We can _glub_ more about it later."

"Alright, Meenah. We'll _glub_ more later."

She grabbed Aranea by the hand and led her back inside, a smile crossing her face at Aranea's use of a water pun. It really didn't take much to make her happy.

* * *

Three miles away, an indigo Mainline was idling outside a modest-sized house. A girl threw open her first-floor bedroom window, climbed over her window ledge, and bounced into the grass. She got to her feet, brushed the grass and dirt from her clothes, and sprinted to the passenger door of the car. She pulled it open, climbed in, and gave the driver a long, lingering kiss.

"What are we doing tonight, baby?" Meulin asked.

Kurloz grinned and laced the fingers of his free hand through hers. "Whatever you wanna do, doll."


	18. Chapter 18

_**Two hours ago** _

Kurloz Makara's Mainline rolled to a stop in front of Eridan's house. Eridan shoved the car door open, climbed out, and headed up the stairs to the house as Kurloz pulled away from the curb.

He hated getting a ride home with the Makaras. The car smelled funny, like stale beer, and both Kurloz and Gamzee were obnoxious. Tavros Nitram, Rufioh's younger brother, had been in the car, too, and while Eridan didn't necessarily have anything against _him_ , the kid was really quiet. (Actually, he was younger than Tavros by over a year so he really had no business referring to him as "the kid," but Tavros definitely didn't act like he was already sixteen.)

The lights were all out at home, so Eridan flipped on the porch light for Cronus and crept up the stairs to his room. Within a few minutes, he was changed into his pajamas and crawling under his covers, pulling open the drawer to his nightstand, and withdrawing _The Fantastical Adventures of Doctor Obsidian, Volume 5, Issue 4_. He hadn't finished reading it yet and he'd gotten it last weekend—that was unacceptable. He settled into bed and started reading, not bothering to take off his glasses.

Unfortunately, he fell asleep within minutes, his comic book dangling precariously from his fingers over the side of his bed.

* * *

After Eridan left, the car ride turned awkward. Tavros could tell Gamzee wanted to say something but he wouldn't, not with Kurloz right there. That suited him just fine, though—Gamzee thought he knew what was going on in his life? He was wrong. He couldn't even imagine the shit that Tavros went through.

And, sure, he knew that the Makaras didn't have an ideal home life, either. Their father was one of the most corrupt politicians in the state and everyone knew it, and everyone also knew that Dardan Makara was about the farthest thing from a decent human being, let alone a decent father. He and his wife were usually gone for weeks at a time, leaving Kurloz and Gamzee to fend for themselves, but Tavros would much rather have had a distant father than one who drank too much and hit him and his brother. Gamzee was so lucky and he didn't even realize it.

When Kurloz finally pulled up in front of Tavros's house, he let himself out and started up the short walk to the front door before he heard another car door opening and closing, and Kurloz yelling, "Hey!" Tavros didn't bother turning around, not until Gamzee had passed him and got in front of him.

"What do you want now?" Tavros asked quietly. He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice since they _had_ just had a fairly civil conversation only an hour or so before, but being back in front of his house just reminded him of what he was walking right back into.

"You don't gotta motherfucking go back in there right now if you don't wanna," Gamzee explained. "I'm sure Kurloz won't motherfucking mind driving you back to our house if you wanna motherfucking crash there."

It was tempting. Even if it meant sleeping on the floor or a couch, it would be better than here. But what happened when Rufioh came home and didn't see him there? Or what their father woke up and Tavros _still_ wasn't home? He couldn't even imagine the shitstorm that would come his way.

"I... I appreciate it, but... it's probably not a good idea. My dad probably wouldn't..."

"It's okay, little motherfucker." Gamzee smiled nervously. "I was just up and thinking that if you didn't wanna motherfucking go back right now, you could use an alternative, you know? But if you up and motherfucking change your mind, just call and we'll come and motherfucking get you, okay?"

Tavros nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks."

Gamzee looked at him for a few more seconds before he quickly kissed the top of Tavros's head and went back to the car. Tavros couldn't breathe for a second—he waited for Kurloz to yell something or for someone else to have seen and start screaming about immoral behavior or something but nothing happened, and Tavros was left standing on the cement of the path to his door, feeling really confused.

Kurloz didn't pull away from the curb until Tavros had closed the front door behind him. A few of the dogs were still awake, including Tink, Rufioh's dog. She nosed up to the door and sniffed, apparently looking for him, and whined when he wasn't there.

"He's not home yet," Tavros murmured, crouching down to pet Tink's head. "He's got a date tonight, but don't worry—you're the only girl for him."

She whined again, more quietly now, and lay down by the door. Tavros stood up and padded to his room with Peter and Wendy following behind him. Neither of the dogs was really his but they both followed him around so much that he could tell they'd both kind of adopted him as _theirs_. Technically, all the dogs save Tink belonged to their father, but Dontay Nitram hit them, too, so they had a glaring mistrust of him. It was only a matter of time before one of them bit him back, though.

He stripped down to his boxers and crawled under his covers. Peter hopped up onto his bed and settled at his feet, but it took Wendy a minute to follow his lead, and instead of staying at the foot of the bed, she snuggled up under his arm and licked at his face until he finally laughed and pushed her away.

If it weren't for the dogs and his brother, he would definitely lose his mind.

* * *

"You not coming in, motherfucker?" Gamzee asked when Kurloz stopped in front of their house but didn't turn off the car.

"Nah, motherfucker. I got other motherfucking things to do tonight. You gonna be alright by yourself, motherfucker?"

Gamzee regarded the big, empty house with slight trepidation. He really didn't want to be alone, but he apparently didn't have much of a choice. Besides, if he got restless and sleepless later (which he almost assuredly would), he could just go walk around the park and talk to whoever else was there, and there was always _someone_ at the park. "Yeah. I'll be fine." He slid out of the front seat and headed up to the door.

Kurloz pulled away before Gamzee made it five steps. He watched Kurloz's taillights receding into the darkness before he sighed and continued up the walk and four stairs to the front door.

He knew no one was home, but he still found himself calling out, "Hello?" as he unlocked and opened the door. No one answered, and he sighed again, shrugging out of his jacket. He wasn't tired, so going to sleep was essentially useless.

He went to the living room and turned on the television. He didn't have anything better to do right now, and sure, it would either be news or crap shows on, but it sure beat staring at his bedroom ceiling for hours until Kurloz got back from wherever it was he was going.

* * *

He drove around for awhile, smoking cigarettes and singing along—badly—to songs on the radio. At one point, he went to the corner store and picked up six-pack of beer, just in case, and stuck it in the trunk. He checked the time about eighteen times before his watch finally displayed 11:18 PM. From here, it would only take him twelve minutes to arrive at her house, and with any luck, she'd be sliding open her bedroom window as he pulled up.

He hit every green light on the way and the late hour left the streets nearly deserted, so he made it to her house in just under eleven minutes, but she must have been waiting for him by the window, because as he stopped, her window opened and she hopped out. With an unremarkable grace considering she was a cheerleader, she landed, sprang to her feet, and sprinted down the lawn, one of the streetlights catching on her necklace, before sliding into the car and kissing him.

"What are we doing tonight, baby?" she asked.

Kurloz grinned. "Whatever you wanna do, doll."

Meulin laughed as he pulled away, and she dragged the fingers of her free hand through her hair. "God, it's such a nice night. I thought it was supposed to rain, but I'm glad it didn't."

He personally thought it would have still been nice with the rain, but he kept it to himself.

"Got a cigarette? Porrim bummed my last one."

"Yeah, doll." He let go of her hand just long enough to dig out his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and hand it to her. She pulled one out, lit it with a match she struck off her fingernail, and tossed the pack up onto the dashboard.

"I didn't really expect to see you at the pep rally. Doesn't really seem like your kinda beat," she half-joked. "Mixin' with all us squares and whatnot."

"Nah, I had a good excuse. Cronus and Rufioh had dates and they met them there, so I basically _had_ to go because I ended up driving motherfucking... Eridan and Tavros home."

Meulin laughed incredulously. "Dates? _Them_? What girl would be desperate enough to date _them_? Besides Porrim, I mean."

Kurloz let out a snort of laughter he tried to suppress. "Well, apparently, Damara Megido has been motherfucking cow-eyed for Rufi for a long time—this is just kinda what I heard from all the talking. But I got no motherfucking idea how Cro convinced Meenah Peixes to go out with him. He managed it, though."

"Wow." Meulin cranked her seat back a few notches and blew a stream of smoke out the window. "I always thought she had better taste than him."

Kurloz shrugged. "He ain't that bad. But yeah, they all went on a double-date and left from the rally."

She sighed and let the tendrils of smoke drift out the window for a few moments. She lazily played with her necklace—moreover, the ring on the chain around her neck. It was Kurloz's class ring, and she'd been wearing it since the day after he received it the year before. He'd just told his friends that he'd lost it, and no one had any reason to doubt it. If Cronus and Rufioh knew he was dating a cheerleader—scratch that, was _in love with_ a cheerleader—they'd never let him hear the end of it. Then again, her own friends would probably ostracize her if they knew she was going with a greaser. Greasers and cheerleaders didn't mix.

Kurloz didn't care, though. He was crazy about her. They'd been dating for two and a half years, and considering the amount of time they'd been together, the fact that it was still a secret was actually quite impressive. But school was going to end in a few months and they'd both be graduating, and they had to decide what they were going to do after that. They'd talked about it a few times, idly of course, but he still wondered.

"So what were you thinking? For tonight, I mean."

She stared up at the stars. "You got a blanket back there?"

"Always."

"And beer?"

"Just picked up a six-pack."

"Let's go stargazing."

"Sure, baby, if that's what you wanna do."

"It's _definitely_ what I wanna do. I was so busy shaking my damn pom-poms at jocks I didn't even get to enjoy the fire."

* * *

Thirty minutes later saw them pulling to a stop just off a stretch of dirt road a few miles outside of Lake Pleasant, Ohio. It was an area that hardly saw any traffic, and almost certainly would be abandoned, especially by anyone else from school. As soon as they parked, Kurloz cranked the top of the car down to let in the stars, and as Meulin climbed into the back seat to spread out the blanket, he went to the trunk and grabbed the beer. He set it on the floor of the car and slid in the back next to her, under the blanket, and she sighed happily and snuggled into his side.

"It's crazy how just a little bit of distance makes all the difference," she murmured, popping the cap off a beer with his keys.

He lit another cigarette. "What do you mean, babe?"

"Shh. Just listen."

He took a drag on the cigarette and listened. "I don't hear nothing," he said after a few moments of silence."

" _Exactly_. I meant the fact that we just go a few miles out and all the noise just disappears." She threw out her arm and took a swig of her beer. "It's just quiet. No one's around but us."

"Well, that's what happens every time we go out, right?"

"Well, _yeah_ ," she said, elbowing him in the ribs, "but that's not the point. I mean, it really feels like it's just _us_."

He said it before he really thought about it. "What if it really _was_ just us?"

She took another drink and gave him a funny look. "I'm not following."

He wasn't even sure why he'd said it except that their future together still weighed heavily on his mind almost all the time. He wished he had someone to talk it over with, someone detached from the situation, someone to bounce ideas off of, but he didn't. He just had himself and Meulin. Even Gamzee... he wouldn't understand. He wouldn't judge Kurloz, but he was high or drunk most of the time and wouldn't be the best to get any great ideas from. "Well... I was just thinking, you know. About after graduation."

She went very still under his arm as she waited for him to continue. "And?"

_Say it. Do it. Just ask her already._ But he couldn't. The words stuck in his throat and he couldn't make them come out of his mouth. He just took a drag on his cigarette. "Never mind. It's no big deal.

"Your sister gonna be a cheerleader, too?" he asked in an effort to change the subject.

"Yeah, maybe. Tryouts for the freshmen are gonna be next week. I hope she joins, though. It would help her make friends, I think. The only friend I've heard her talking about is that sophomore guy, Equius whats-his-name. Oh," she added suddenly, rubbing her forehead. "Student council nominations are up next week, too."

He grinned. "You wanna be class motherfucking president?"

She practically purred with laughter and shook her head. "Not a chance. Nah, I'd much rather be treasurer or secretary."

He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder before putting his cigarette to his lips again. "You know I'd vote for you."

"You should run for president, though."

He nearly choked on the smoke. "You kidding me?" He laughed hoarsely. "I think our class is gonna have a big enough surprise at the end of the year without me bein' motherfuckin' class president on top of it."

She giggled, too. "Yeah, you're probably right. Oh, well."

"And homecoming's coming up."

"You gonna go?"

"Maybe. I don't really wanna go stag, though, so I might not." They'd both skipped the homecoming dance the previous two years since the only person either of them wanted to go with was someone they couldn't be seen with, but this would be their last chance. They were seniors. Even though he'd never been much for school spirit, he didn't want to wake up in twenty years and wish he'd gone. "But even if we don't go... we should go to prom together. By then, it'll be, what, two weeks out from graduation? Too late for anyone to really care."

She looked up at him for a few moments, finished off her beer, and tossed the bottle out of the car. Grinning, she climbed into his lap and gave him a light kiss. "You asking me to prom?"

He flicked the remainder of his cigarette out of the car as well and rested his hands on her hips. "Meulin Leijon, will you go to prom with me?"

She dropped her head and laughed, her dark tangle of curls obscuring her face. "You're such a dork," she giggled. "But you're _my_ dork," she added fondly. She gave him another, longer kiss and lazily ran her fingers through his hair. "Yes, Kurloz Makara, I will go to prom with you."

He grinned and kissed her back, and it was two more hours before either of them even thought about going back home.


	19. Chapter 19

Cronus didn't wake up on Saturday morning until ten—although if he had his way, he wouldn't have woken up until halfway through Sunday. However, Eridan had been sent to wake him up so he could join the rest of the family for brunch, and so Cronus reluctantly dragged himself out of his bed and dressed as quickly as he could. At the kitchen table, his father shot him a filthy look for his clothes—jeans and the T-shirt he'd quite obviously worn the day before—but he ignored it. Being awake wasn't even his idea, so he refused to be made to feel guilty for not dressing "appropriately". Eridan, model son that he was apparently trying to be, was wearing a purple dress shirt and black dress pants.

Of course, there was no family rule about sleeping after breakfast, so once his mother had cleared away all the dishes, he went right back to his room and crawled back into bed. He knew it was going to mess up his sleep schedule, but the whole summer had essentially screwed it up, his part-time job notwithstanding, so he didn't particularly care. He'd been out late the night before so he was still really tired.

He also promised himself that one he woke up again, he'd stay awake clear through to Sunday night so he would be able to sleep through the night. As he drifted off, though, he had a feeling he was lying to himself.

* * *

When he next regained consciousness, it was nine-thirty on Saturday night. _Good enough_ , he told himself, throwing off his covers and stumbling to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he styled his hair, got dressed again (in different clothes than the night before), snagged his car keys, and slipped out of the house. Eridan was probably still awake, but the status of his parents was a question mark. Not that he cared too much about their opinion right now—it was his own car he was taking, he was eighteen, and it was Saturday night.

He was halfway down the front walk before he realized he had no idea what he was going to do. No matter, though—he'd drive to the nearest payphone and get ahold of Rufioh and Kurloz, see if they wanted to do something.

There was a payphone by the gas station at the corner of Sunrise and Eighth, and five minutes later, he was sliding in a quarter and dialing Rufioh's number. The line rang for a few seconds before someone picked up, and then Tavros's voice came across. "Uh... hello?"

"Tav, it's Cro. Rufi around?"

"Uh, yeah, lemme get him." There was the gentle thud of Tavros setting the receiver down on something—presumably the kitchen counter—and retreating footsteps. Cronus tapped his foot impatiently for nearly two minutes until there came more footsteps, approaching this time, and then Rufioh said, "Hey, Cro, what's happening?"

"Nothin' yet, man. Your old man still up?"

"Nah, he crashed like an hour ago. Why?"

"Feel up to sneakin' out an' raisin' some hell?"

A beat of silence. Too long—Rufioh was usually all in favor of getting out of his house. Cronus was just about to retract his offer when his friend finally said, "Sure, I can leave."

"Man, if you're busy, it's not a big deal—"

"Oh, no, man, that ain't it. It's just... don't worry about it, it's nothin'. When are you swingin' by here?"

"Give me a few minutes to see if the Makaras are down to fiesta an' I should be over in a minute."

"Alright, I'll be waitin' at the corner. See you."

"Yeah, man, see you." Cronus hung up and stared at the receiver for a minute. _What a weird guy. Wonder what's up with him._ He shrugged, dismissing it, and stuck another quarter in to dial Kurloz's house.

This time, the line rang for nearly thirty seconds before anyone answered. "Good evening, sir or ma'am, you've reached the Makara residence, this is—"

"Kurloz, shut the fuck up an' listen." Cronus pinched the bridge of his nose. Kurloz—and probably Gamzee—was operating under some kind of drug tonight. He didn't think it was alcohol, but he was definitely spacing on something. That was the only explanation for his overly-formal greeting. "You an' Gamzee want to hang out? I'm about to pick up Rufi an' we can figure out somethin' to do."

"Oh, man, for motherfuckin' sure! An' I got a great motherfuckin' idea for somethin' we can do, too!"

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" Cronus asked, interested despite knowing it would probably be idiotic.

"Let's go motherfuckin' egg people's houses!"

Actually, that wasn't a bad idea. Mayhem, but not so much that they would get the cops called on them. Sadly, it was one of Kurloz's better ideas. But it lacked punch. It needed something _extra_.

In the distance, he could hear church bells suddenly chiming ten o'clock, and that was where an addendum crept into his head. "I like where you're goin' with that, Kurly, but I think I can do you one better. Stick tight, I'll be at your place in a couple a' minutes." He hung up, darted into the mini-mart attached to the gas station, and bought three dozen eggs. Once he'd set the cartons carefully onto the seat next to him, he tore off to pick up the boys.

They were _definitely_ going to raise hell tonight.

* * *

"Um..." Rufioh opened the car door and slid into the passenger's seat, gingerly lifting the three cartons of eggs and examining them. "Any reason you have unrealized poultry in your car?"

"Kurly's idea with my improvement," Cronus said, grinning. "I'll explain once we pick up the Makaras. They're waiting."

"Delightful." Rufioh scratched at the side of his head as Cronus gunned the engine down the street, and he glanced sideways just long enough to realize that Rufioh's preferred ratio of red to black in his hair was listing a bit too heavily toward the black side.

"You fixin' to dye your hair again?" he asked.

Rufioh bit his lip and ran his fingers over his hair. There wasn't any grease in it tonight—he'd had to dash out in a hurry. "I don't know. I wanna, but..." He rubbed his first two fingers against his thumb. "That takes some coin, an' I don't got enough to play with right now. An' don't even think about offerin', 'cause I know you're gonna."

Cronus threw his hands up in an exaggerated shrug. "Hey, man, you know I don't care. I got more money 'n I know what to do with. All you gotta do is ask."

"Yeah, I know," Rufioh said with a sigh. "I'll think about it."

"In the meantime, keep a good hold on those eggs. Don't wanna break any just yet."

Rufioh raised his eyebrows. "Are we eggin' someone's house?"

"Nope." Cronus grinned. "Better. But like I said, once we get the Makaras."

Fortunately, they pulled up in front of the Makara home only five minutes later, and then both Kurloz and Gamzee were sprinting out the front door and howling like wolves. Cronus rubbed his temples and twisted in his seat to glare at them as they landed in the backseat, laughing their asses off.

"Alright, kiddies, we have been assembled here tonight for glorious intent. Brother Rufi, the almost-chickens."

Rufioh held up the egg cartons.

"Brother Kurloz had a halfway decent suggestion of eggin' people's houses, but since I can't really think of anyone who gets on my nerves besides that Captor kid, I figure we could do something better. Hear that?" He paused as the bells in the distance chimed ten-thirty.

"Yeah, those are the bells on that motherfuckin' Baptist church," Gamzee said.

Cronus grinned. "Anyone else feel like performin' an act a' sacrilege tonight?"

"Oh, man, you thinkin' of eggin' that motherfuckin' church?" Kurloz crowed, catching on.

"Hell, yes!"

There was a general chorus of agreement from the other three in the form of whoops and yells (even from Rufioh, who Cronus thought would take a bit of convincing), so Cronus gunned the engine down the street toward Judicial Avenue, where the church was located.

The moon was bright overhead and the air was quiet save the chirping of crickets when they arrived a few minutes later. Cronus rolled to a stop in the parking lot, and all four doors popped open as they climbed out. "There it is, boys," he said, grinning and spreading his arms wide. The church was tiny and there was no one else around except them. "Kinda makes you feel like fallin' to your knees, right?"

Kurloz burst out laughing as he uncapped a bottle of beer. Cronus had no idea where he'd gotten it from until Gamzee started passing out more bottles.

"Sneaky bastards," Cronus laughed, accepting a bottle. "Who's got the eggs?"

"Right here," Rufioh said. He set the cartons on top of the car and flipped one open.

Cronus took a swig from his bottle and pulled out an egg. He tossed it in the air and caught it easily. "Anyone else want the honors?" When the others just shook their heads, he shrugged. "Alright, suit yourselves." With a fierce yell, he lobbed the first egg at the front doors of the church, and it connected and cracked with a solid crunch. Gooey yolk slid down the wooden door, and with that, the floodgates were opened. Suddenly, all four of them were scrambling to seize a handful of eggs and chuck them one by one (or, in Gamzee's case, two at a time) in the direction of the church. Most of the eggs hit their marks, but a few fell short, splattering into the dust of the parking lot. With all their hollering, though, Cronus was surprised they didn't wake any of the neighbors.

They were halfway through the last carton when the sound of sirens split the air. Cronus froze, sure he was imagining it—the other three hadn't acknowledged the sound—until Rufioh paused, too, and looked around. "Oh, shit! Is that the cops?"

Gamzee threw every egg in his hands at once. "Fuck! Let's get the motherfuck out of here!"

"Hang on!" Kurloz picked up the entire carton and chucked them all. The last four eggs splattered against the church steps before he dived back into the backseat. "Floor it, motherfucker!"

Cronus peeled out of the parking lot and zipped down a side street, away from the sirens, barely giving the others a chance to buckle their seat belts. He went down a few blocks, turned a corner, and parked on the street, flipped off his headlights, and turned off the engine.

"What the fuck are you doin'?" Rufioh demanded.

"Hidin' in plain sight," Cronus hissed. "I hear those sirens but they ain't seen us yet. Everyone, get down!"

The sirens kept getting closer as the four of them sank down below the windows. Cronus held his breath—knowing full well it wouldn't do anything if he didn't—and then one squad car zoomed past them, followed closely by a second, and then the sirens faded away again.

"Whoa," Kurloz said, sounding awed. "Two cop cars for _us_?"

"I can't believe they called the cops on us!" Cronus straightened up in his seat. "What fuckin' bullshit!"

"They didn't catch us," Rufioh pointed out.

"That's not the point. The heat's on us tonight. We can't do _anything_ now or else they'll figure out it was us." Cronus sighed. "I'm takin' you guys home."

* * *

_Oh, my God._

"What happened here?" his mother asked, her eyes wide as she took in the damage.

No one had an answer. It seemed that the Vantas men, each of them normally so verbose, had been rendered completely speechless by the vandalism.

"Looks like eggs," Karkat finally murmured to Kankri, just loud enough for his brother to hear. Kankri was relieved he kept his voice down, though. Their father probably would have chastised him for being a smart alec. He probably wouldn't have used those words, but the spirit would have been there.

"This is disgusting," Karter spat. "What kind of godless hooligans—"

"Reverend!" someone called, jarring the whole family. A woman in a jade-green dress with short black hair and dark skin strode toward them. Kankri recognized her immediately: Dolores Maryam, Porrim Maryam's mother.

"Ms. Maryam," Karter said stiffly.

"I'm so sorry about this. I woke up around ten-thirty, eleven o'clock last night, and I heard yelling, so I looked out my front window and I saw these four men—well, they were probably teenagers, but it was hard to tell for sure—and they were flinging eggs at the church! So I called the police, naturally, but I think the vandals got away. I didn't hear for sure, though."

"That's just... well, thank you for calling the police, anyway," Kaylah said finally, putting her hand on Karter's shoulder.

Kankri, meanwhile, sidestepped his parents and Porrim's mother and made his way up to the door. Broken egg shells littered the dirt of the parking lot, and though he tried to avoid them, he heard a few crunches underfoot. The front doors and walls had taken the most severe beating, though—whoever had thrown them had fairly good aim.

"...dark-colored, looked like a Chrysler, but from the distance I was at, it was difficult to determine for certain..."

Kankri spun around. A dark-colored Chrysler? Four teenage vandals? That sounded very familiar. _The Lost Boys, probably._ Cronus Ampora and his band of rebels had been here last night, on this very ground. He could still see tire tracks from where his car had been. He couldn't say why, but that thought didn't bother him as much as he expected.

"So what are we to do about the mess?" he asked abruptly.

With their parents' backs to him, Karkat raised his eyebrows in a _you gotta be shitting me_ expression.

Karter cleared his throat. "We leave it until after the sermon. I had something different planned for this morning, but I can very easily work in the relentless persecution of those of the Christian faith."

_Fire and brimstone this morning, then_ , Kankri said to himself. And here, he'd been hoping it would be a quiet Sunday.

He turned back to the splattered eggs on the doors. From what he knew about Cronus Ampora and his band of leather-clad misfits, this would be the type of thing they'd do. Part of him was upset and horrified—most of him, he liked to think—but there was a small part of him that was actually _jealous_ of him. Cronus Ampora had the freedom and the ability to do as he pleased. He could rebel against _everything_ , and Kankri was the son of a preacher, expected to behave himself at all times.

Yes, he was jealous. But he wasn't stupid enough to say so out loud.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GIGAPAUSE: FINISH.
> 
> Sorry about the hugely belated update. It's my first one post-deployment! I hope it's okay! *sweatdrops* Anyway, I think I'm going to focus on one fic at a time from now on until I either finish or lose steam and want to work on another, whichever comes first.
> 
> Please be gentle.

Kankri chanced a quick glance left and right. His mother had her eyes locked on the altar, her expression rapt as she gazed at Karter. Behind them, the rest of the congregation seemed just as taken in as Kaylah. People let out shouts and cheers of agreement, and all Kankri wanted to do was sink down under the pew and hide. He didn't even know why, and if it weren't for Karkat's equally-sullen expression, he would think he was the only one who didn't want to be there.

He didn't know why he suddenly felt alien here. He'd been coming to this church for the last two months, ever since they'd first moved here. He had felt so comfortable here until just this morning. What had happened? Was it Karkat finally rubbing off on him? Maybe it was the fact that those boys had egged the church—he didn't feel safe anymore. Or...

He felt like it was something else, something different, or maybe it was some combination of the three. There was something he was missing, and he couldn't figure out what it was.

Karkat crossed his arms and sank back into the pew. Kankri's first reaction was to elbow him and to mutter, "Straighten up." But he couldn't summon the energy, and as he contemplated it, he realized he didn't care that much anymore. It was a strange feeling.

His father's booming voice flooded the church to the rafters as he expounded angrily on the disrespect of modern teenagers, the moral decay of modern America, the imminent future flooded with Communists, baby-killers, and queers.

Kankri shivered and anxiously scratched at his arm under the fabric of his suit jacket. He was the only one who seemed to feel genuinely afraid, even for reasons he couldn't quite name. Karkat just seemed bored; there was a glazed look in his eye as he stared down at his fingernails. As usual for Sunday mornings, his hair had been tamed with a liberal amount of pomade, but even though the front and sides were smoothed down, a stray tuft still stuck up in the back. Kankri's own hair had been combed back, but nothing held it in place except prayers and a fine layer of sweat beading up on his scalp. It was still roasting in the church, even in early September.

He could imagine Porrim sitting in the back next to her mother with Kanaya beside her, both of them sitting primly and appearing to listen, but he knew Porrim well enough by now to know that she didn't buy a word of it, either. She had a deep disdain of organized religion, but she was kind enough to keep it to herself around him. In exchange, he'd kept his father's sermons out of everything he said.

How was it possible that he'd changed so much in barely a week? What had happened? Had school in Ohio really changed him so much already?

He glanced up again, just in time to catch his father's eye, and suddenly, despite the heat, he felt cold. Whatever was changing inside him, it was clear from the look on Karter's face that it was dangerous.

* * *

Cronus barely woke up enough to hear the front door opening and closing quietly, but he wasn't surprised. Since his eighteenth birthday, his parents had given up on making him go to church with them. Eridan was still stuck with them for another two and a half years, but he was free to sleep in on Sundays. Besides, from the sound of that new preacher they'd gotten at the beginning of the summer, the place was a lot more fire-and-brimstone than before, which was already more than he wanted to have preached at him.

The Reverend Karter Vantas. Why did that name stick in his head? He was sure he'd heard it before—his parents had mentioned him several times, after all—but that wasn't it. There was some other context, and he couldn't—

Kankri Vantas. That was the new junior with the red sweater in his history class, wasn't it? Or was it English? Math? No, wait, it was debate class. The last name wasn't exactly common, so he had a pretty good hunch that the new junior was the son of the new preacher. Cronus smirked—he had a feeling that tomorrow morning would be interesting. No doubt Kankri attended every one of his sainted father's sermons, so there was no doubt that Vantas would get an eyeful of the egging the church had undergone. He wondered if Vantas would say anything about it. Maybe he'd be upset—or, surprisingly, even better, secretly amused.

Cronus rolled out of bed and hopped into his jeans before slinking down the stairs in bare feet. He still needed a shower to wash the grease out of his hair, but he could take care of that after some breakfast. Enjoying the solitude of the house on Sunday morning, he poured a bowl of cereal and headed out to the back porch. The sun was shining on the patio, warming the morning air, and he dragged a wicker chair over to the grass so he could feel it between his toes as he ate.

He knew he'd still be hungry after one bowl of cereal, but that was fine because his mother always made a big family brunch after church on Sundays, and he would still be expected to join them for that, at least. He was eighteen, so he was pretty much always hungry, and one tiny bowl of cereal wouldn't change that.

He'd gotten home late last night, past one, after dropping off the Makaras and then wheeling halfway across town to drop off Rufi. That had only kept him out until just before midnight, but he'd felt too restless to go right home. He solved his problem by driving out to the lake and smoking nearly a pack of cigarettes before leaning back on the hood of his car and dozing off. When he'd woken next, it had felt like hours, but it was still dark, and the light of the moon on his watch told him that it had only been about twenty minutes. As he got back into the car and prepared to drive off, he was filled with some strange feeling that he'd been in the middle of a dream that he could no longer remember. He thought Rufi might have been in it, distraught about something, but every time he tried to concentrate, to remember what was so horrible, the details slipped farther away, vanishing like smoke.

Whatever it was, it didn't resurface in his later dreams. He parked quietly just outside of the house and crept in as sneakily as he could, taking off his shoes before creeping up the stairs even though his shoes were already quiet. Once he was sure he was in the clear, he shimmied out of his jeans and jacket and fell across his bed, losing himself to sleep. This time, he remembered his dream.

It felt like a school dance, although everyone seemed to him to be adults—not just in the legal sense, but in the responsibility sense. Even Kurloz and Gamzee made an appearance, both of them surprisingly lucid, but everyone, everyone from school, glared at him. It was like he had personally committed a grievous offense against each and every one of them. Except a young man with a red sweater, who simply looked at him with a curious expression before smiling. It was a nice smile, too, and even though everyone else there seemed to hate him, he found himself smiling back, not even realizing who it was smiling at him in the first place.

Now, of course, he realized, and it had come over him all at once. "Fuck," he muttered. "What a stupid fuckin' dream." There was no way Kurloz or Gamzee would ever hate him, and there was no way Kankri Vantas would ever smile at him. Not like that, anyway. Even though he wouldn't admit it out loud, that last part made something in his stomach twist uncomfortably.

* * *

"What a lovely sermon, dear," Kaylah said happily, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of bacon sizzling. "You had them praising the Spirit with every word!"

"They're easily swayed. Come tomorrow, they'll be heathens again." Karter peered over the Sunday paper to look carefully at his sons. "And what did you take away from what I had to say?"

Kankri spoke up first—he was, after all, the firstborn, and he doubted Karkat would have much to say, anyway. "It was enlightening, Father. And quite right, of course." He knew he had to tread carefully here. After all, he hadn't even mentioned the upcoming school elections to his parents yet. "In fact, I've seen a lot of the same corruption you described in our very school. The senior class especially seems to treat their last year of secondary education as some sort of hedonistic party. But I've been considering what you've said, and I think I have the opportunity to make a difference. You see, I would like to run for junior class president, and I believe I can make a real difference at the school that way. What do you think?"

Karter slowly and deliberately folded his newspaper back up and set it on the table next to his plate. "You were never interested in school politics before," he said in a tone that almost sounded suspicious.

"I didn't see the same problems in Louisiana as I see here," Kankri replied, suddenly feeling like he was losing ground fast.

"Is this about impressing that Maryam girl?"

"Karter," Kaylah said gently. "There's nothing wrong with Porrim. And besides, she's a senior, and a pleasant girl, after all. And her mother is a vital pillar of the church. Why, I bet she's home with her mother and sister now, reading Bible verses."

Kankri didn't bother to correct her.

"And Kankri is a fine young man. Why shouldn't he try to make a difference at school? Who knows? He has the potential to accomplish something great there."

Karter's suspicious gaze shifted to Kaylah, as though he thought she were in on this. "Did he say something about this to you?"

"No, dear," Kankri's mother replied mildly, "but I do think it's a wonderful idea. Kankri is a born leader, after all. He gets that from your side of the family."

Karter eyed her for another long moment before he looked again at Kankri. "Well, I suppose some good may come of this. Very well. You may pursue your place in this school election. I pray for God's blessing upon you as you undertake this daunting task." Without another word, he shook his newspaper open again and resumed reading.

Kankri shot his mother a grateful look, and she winked back at him. She'd helped him gain his father's approval to run. The hard part was over. After this, the actual election would be a piece of cake.

* * *

Cronus had cleaned up his bowl and spoon and gotten himself presentable before his parents and brother returned. He'd even decided to get into his parents' good graces early by setting the table on the back patio for brunch—when the weather was nice, as it was now, this was where they preferred to take their weekend meals. After all, the less his parents had to complain about with him, the better, right?

When he heard raised voices in the front yard from where he sat in the backyard, though, he had a feeling that maybe his efforts were wasted.

"—the sheer, appalling grotesqueness of such a display!"

"Who would do such a thing?"

"Someone with no respect for a decent, Christian society, that's who!"

Oops. He'd thought that Reverend Vantas might have cleaned off the doors of the church before the congregation arrived, but apparently not. He hauled himself to his feet—now wearing shoes—and met his family in the foyer. "Mornin'," he said cheerily, as though he hadn't clearly heard their conversation from the patio. "How was church?"

"Someone defaced the church last night!" his father roared, causing Cronus to take a step back in what he hoped was believable surprise.

"Defaced the church? What do you mean? Someone painted rude things on it, or—"

"Some hooligans threw eggs at the front of the church! The Vantas family got there early this morning, and that Maryam woman, Dolora, said that she'd seen the vandals actually doing it!"

His mother took over since Mr. Ampora was quickly becoming too enraged to be coherent. "Dolora telephoned the police, of course, and they arrived quickly, but not quickly enough. The vandals drove away before the police got there, and I don't think they ever found them. Dolora said, though, that she thought it looked like a small group of teenagers. Four or five of them, from the sound of the awful racket they were making. They woke up nearly the whole neighborhood."

Behind their parents, Eridan smirked at Cronus. His little brother was smarter than he gave him credit for. Eridan clearly knew it was The Lost Boys responsible for it.

"I can't believe anyone would actually throw eggs at a church," Cronus said, sounding as affronted as he could manage. "It's so disrespectful. It's such a terrible thing that a few crazy cats are makin'[ the rest of us levelheaded teenagers look like a band a' punks."

Eridan rolled his eyes, as if to say, Laying it on a bit thick, are we?

"I wholeheartedly agree," his mother said. "Come on, Kristo, let me take your hat. You go sit down and I'll fix us some brunch. Cronus, Eridan, can you boys set the back table?"

"Already took care a' that, Ma," Cronus said cheerfully.

His parents and brother all looked at him in surprise.

"What? I woke up a little earlier this mornin'. I can be productive sometimes."

His parents exchanged glances. "Well," his mother said slowly, "I suppose I'll just get started on brunch, then. Go and sit down outside, Kristo. I should be done in a half an hour or so."

Cronus and Eridan followed their father out to the patio, but Kristo didn't sit down. He stared out into the backyard for a few moments before heaving a sigh and draping his suit jacket over the back of his customary chair. There were sweat stains sticking his previously-crisp dress shirt to his torso, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I just can't believe someone would be so indecent, so disrespectful, to do something like that. You know, I didn't want to believe it, but I think Reverend Vantas is right about your generation." His father turned to face Cronus. "He said during his sermon today that your generation is full of lazy, disrespectful people with no common courtesy and who only want to cause trouble for its own sake. You're a prime example of that. Look at how you dress, the slimeballs you hang out with, the way you act! I wouldn't be surprised to find out it was you and your good-for-nothing friends who desecrated the church last night. I'm ashamed to call you my son."

So much for getting on their good side.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, look, it's my favorite secret ship. This wasn't supposed to happen but then it did so whatever.

Rufioh crumpled and uncrumpled the piece of paper in his hands for what felt like the hundred and fiftieth time that night. It was Damara's number, and even though he knew he was _supposed_ to call her—somehow it had been decided that they were together now—he was still nervous. He didn't know what he was going to say to her. Still, he desperately wanted to be normal, and if it meant he had to fumble through this awkwardness, so be it. He dug a quarter out of his pocket, shut himself into the phone booth, slid the coin into the slot, and dialed her phone number.

It rang for nearly twenty seconds—Rufioh's heart getting lighter and lighter as he realized that maybe she wouldn't answer—before the other line picked up. "Hello?" a female voice said breathlessly.

It wasn't Damara, he could tell right away. The voice was a little higher, and Rufioh seemed to recall that Damara had a younger sister. This was probably her, then. "Um, hey. This is, um, Rufioh. Rufioh Nitram. I-is Damara there?"

"Sure," the voice said, suddenly amused. "Hold on." The phone was set down and the same voice was now heard at a distance, calling, "Damara, it's for _youuuuuuu_ ," in an obnoxious sing-song tone. After that, there were a few seconds of unintelligible murmurs, an excited-sounding squeak, and then the clatter of the receiver as it was picked up—frantically, probably.

"Rufi?"

"Uh, hey, doll. It's me."

"I was hoping you'd call," Damara said, sounding excited while trying not to sound too excited. She still had to play it cool, after all.

Rufioh swallowed. "Well, I did. So, um, how was your weekend?"

That seemed to be the only invitation Damara needed. Without further prompting, she launched into a detailed account of the previous day and a half. The story culminated in a scandalized-sounding recitation of an attack on a Baptist church, and it took Rufioh a second to remember that he'd been behind that. Well, he and the other Lost Boys, anyway. "Sounds terrible, doll. What'd they do about it?"

"Well, Reverend Vantas left it up until after the service because he wanted it to act as a testament to the depravity of today's youth. But I think it got cleaned up afterward."

"Oh. That's good, then." He swallowed hard and turned around so he wasn't facing the rest of the phone. The sun was setting just above the tree line and in the phone booth, he felt strangely disconnected, like he was merely watching everything around him, not actually participating. "I take it that was the most excitin' part of the weekend."

"Of course not," Damara said. "As a matter of fact, the most exciting part was hanging out with you."

He was listening from a distance; her words barely sank in, more floating on the surface of his mind without being absorbed. A blue pickup truck roared by, and for one fleeting moment, he and the driver locked eyes. Then the truck was rumbling into the distance, and Horuss Zahhak was out of sight. He was seized with a crazy impulse to chase after him, but his knees seemed frozen and refused to move. For that instant, he'd actually felt _peaceful_.

"Rufi? Are you still there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry, doll. I thought someone out here was tryin' to get my attention."

"Oh. So you didn't hear what I said?" she asked, sounding disappointed.

He mentally backtracked. "No, sorry, I heard you. Me—mine, too. Hangin' out with you was great," he said. He hoped it didn't sound too forced.

"Really?" she gushed. He guessed he seemed convincing. That, or she was so desperate to believe he returned her feelings that she would swallow basically anything he said, no matter how insincere he sounded.

He felt horrible for her. "Really, doll." For a moment, he considered telling her the truth, being brutally honest. _Damara, I have to tell you. I'll never be able to love you the way you deserve to be loved. It's not you or anything you did, doll. It's me. Please don't cry, Damara. I promise you didn't do anything wrong. It's just that, the way I'm supposed to feel about girls... I don't. I like boys._

He couldn't tell her. She would scream. She would cry. She would call him a freak, a monster. He turned back to the phone dial and cupped his forehead in his free hand.

"Aw, you're so sweet. Thanks, doll," she said, clearly trying his own flirting tactic on him.

He chuckled nervously, and in attempt to hide it, he said, "So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow at school, huh?"

She laughed. "Well, yeah, I _was_ planning on going. But it's still early—think maybe we could meet up tonight? I have no problem sneaking out," she added in a conspiratorial tone.

"M-my dad actually won't let me, an' we have like a hundred dogs so sneakin' out really isn't an option," he lied quickly.

"Oh." She sounded disappointed, but then her voice brightened. "Well, alright, then. I'll see you tomorrow, Rufi!"

"Yeah, doll. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up quickly and hurried out of the phone booth, but once the cool evening air washed over his face and he didn't feel so confined, he slowed down and walked to the curb where he sat down and dug a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket.

He was down to his last three. He eyed them for a moment and sighed. He didn't know when he was going to be able to buy another pack, so it was best to conserve them while he could. He put the pack away and stared off at the trees, barely noticing the loud rumbling approaching.

He'd walked to the phone booth from his house, a nearly two-mile trek. He'd wanted the time to clear his head and he especially wanted the privacy away from his house, his father, his brother, and a hundred yapping bulldogs. He didn't want to go back, either. He was calm out here in the open, suddenly-quiet air. He could breathe out here. Away from his father's lingering presence—beer and sweat and hands that were fists more often than not—he felt safe, safer than he did at home.

Although he _did_ wish Tink were here, at least.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Here, no one would bother him. 

"Rufioh?" 

His eyes flew open and he twisted around. _No fuckin' way._ Horuss Zahhak had reappeared with that truck of his, now parked about twenty feet behind Rufioh. Horuss himself was out of the truck, looking at him from over the hood. Rufioh hated the way his heart skipped a beat as he first locked eyes with Horuss. He hoped his face wasn't turning red, although if it was, it was quickly becoming too dark outside to tell. 

"Hey, Horuss. We really have to stop meetin' like this," he joked to cover his nerves as he stood up. He tugged nervously at his jacket and hoped Horuss didn't notice. 

"You do always seem to be stranded," he agreed with a small nod. 

"Well, at least this time, it was by choice." 

"It wasn't last time?" 

"Well, Cronus was drivin' me home an' I told him to let me out, so... maybe it was by choice both times." He shrugged, slowly walking toward him without realizing it. "But I actually walked out here this time." 

"You're still a fair distance from home," Horuss pointed out. 

"True, but I had a phone call to make an' I didn't want to do it at home. You know little brothers," he half-joked. He loved Tavros to death, of course, but sometimes he just needed his space. 

"I do know. My younger brother is a sophomore this year." 

"I didn't know you had a younger brother." 

Horuss nodded. "Yes. Equius is on the wrestling team, as a matter of fact." 

"Heh. Tavros takes Home Ec." He immediately felt guilty—it almost sounded like he was making fun of his brother, and he'd never do that. 

"A very useful skill set to have," Horuss said solemnly. "I wish I'd had the chance to take it, but considering the schedule I've had since my freshman year, it's been virtually impossible to fit it all in." 

Rufioh felt a little better. Apparently, Horuss really wasn't a raging jackass. He actually was as nice as he seemed. That was an unusual quality to find in a person. "Well, my dad wasn't too thrilled by it. He said, and I quote, 'Home Ec is for pansies.'" 

Horuss flinched. "Your father doesn't seem to be the most... _enlightened_ person, shall we say?" 

"I'm used to it." 

"Your eye looks a little better." 

Reflexively, Rufioh touched the bruise. The purple was mostly fading, but there was still tinges of yellow around his eye left. "I look like a horror show." 

"I've seen worse. Although, sadly, not inflicted by a parent." Horuss blinked and then started stuttering out, "My apologies—I just realized how that sounded. That is to say, that's the worst I've—" 

"I know what you meant," Rufioh said. He half-smiled. "Like I said, I'm used to it. It's not a big deal." 

Horuss looked down at the hood of his pickup for a minute. "If you'd like another ride home, I would be more than happy to oblige. Although, I was just on my way to dinner, so if you're hungry—" 

"Thanks, but I can't really afford dinner out, an' I can't ask you to pay for me. You barely know me—it ain't right." 

Horuss nodded. "I suppose that's fair. But if you'd still like a ride home..." 

"That, I won't say no to." Even though he would have loved going out to dinner and spending more time with Horuss, he couldn't let himself get too close. There was no point in falling for _another_ man who wouldn't want him. A ride home was all he would allow himself. 

"Very well. Hop in." 

Once Rufioh had slammed his door shut and settled back in the passenger's seat, Horuss started the truck back up and they roared away from the parking lot. 

"So who were you calling that required such secrecy?" Horuss paused. "I'm sorry, I asked without thinking. That's none of my business." 

"I don't mind, really. It was Damara Megido." 

"Damara? She's one of the... Fuchsia Ladies, correct? That's what they call themselves?" 

"Yeah." Rufioh chuckled. "That's them. An' yeah, she's one of them." 

"I see. So I suppose that means the two of you are going steady?" 

"I... well, we went out on Friday night. An' I know she likes me a lot. An' she's great an' all, she really is. An' I guess everyone thinks that's what we're gonna do, so I guess I'll ask her, but really, I don't feel that way about her." 

"I'm sorry. It's difficult to find a meaningful connection with someone. And to add to that, the pressure of doing what others think you should do with no consideration for whether it's really the right thing for you. I don't envy you." 

"I guess you have that problem too, then, huh?" 

"I find that people are often intimidated by me. I'm told I can be very intense." He almost sounded mournful as he said it. 

"Intense isn't bad," Rufioh protested, and then nearly smacked himself. The last thing he wanted was Horuss getting uncomfortable with him. If Rufioh sounded like he was _flirting_ with him, that would probably be a good way to do it. 

What looked like a smile twitched at the corner of Horuss's mouth. "It's a special sort of person who can tolerate my intensity." 

_It almost sounds like he's flirting back._ Rufioh definitely noticed the gender-neutral language, but maybe it was his own wishful thinking that was projecting onto Horuss. 

"Probably a bunch of high school kids can't appreciate it, though. Don't worry. I'm sure someone out there thinks you're cool." 

Horuss didn't answer for a few moments, and Rufioh started feeling awkward. Maybe he'd said something wrong. _Again._ "Not to imply that you ain't cool or anythin', but like..." He was sure he was turning red by now. "I mean, you _are_ cool, but like in a real unusual way, I guess." His face burned and he sank farther down in the seat, wishing it would swallow him up. 

"I suppose your assessment is correct. I _am_ rather unusual." Horuss was half-smiling again, and it made Rufioh feel a little better. "And you don't even know the half of it yet." 

"Oh, yeah?" Rufioh attempted a smirk. "Try me." 

"Well, aside from my physical intensity, my personal beliefs are rather unconventional. Most people find it off-putting." 

"Unconventional how?" 

Horuss tightened his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment before relaxing his grip. "I operate under the belief that how a person chooses to live their life is their own business. For example, I have an older cousin who... well, she's not interested in men. She currently lives with another woman, and from what I understand, they're quite happy together. Most people I know would frown on such an arrangement, if not outright condemn it, but the way I see it, they aren't hurting anyone. They're happy. They're hardworking. And so it's no one's place to judge them for what little happiness they can find in the world." 

Rufioh felt lightheaded, nearly giddy. He'd never felt this kind of relief before, knowing without a doubt that someone finally wouldn't judge him or call him a freak. "I completely agree, actually. Just because a certain type a' relationship ain't common doesn't mean it ain't worthwhile." 

"Of course. And naturally, I think anyone who's brave enough to live authentically as who they are deserves the utmost respect. No one should have to live a lie." 

Rufioh's eyes stung but he had no idea he was actually crying until Horuss, sounding alarmed, said, "Are you alright?" 

He wiped at his eyes quickly and nodded. "Yeah, I just... that's exactly what I'm doin' with Damara. I know she doesn't deserve to be lied to like this, but I feel like I got no other choice. Cro an' all them have been pushin' us together an' she likes me a lot but I can't just tell her the truth, 'cause..." 

"Because there's a good chance she won't understand," Horuss finished gently. The truck rolled to a stop in front of Rufioh's house and he didn't want to get out of the pickup, he just wanted to stay in here with Horuss and his warm, soothing presence and his unconditional acceptance and his caring blue eyes that were locked right on him. "I understand. Right now, in high school and with everyone as judgemental as they are, it's not the wisest choice to live openly." 

"I don't care if I have to keep it a secret. I just want to be with the guy that makes me happy." His chest felt like an expanding balloon as he said it, _finally_ admitted out loud the awful truth. Next to Horuss, though, it didn't feel so awful. 

"So do I," Horuss murmured. 

_Did he just say that, or did I dream it?_ Rufioh wondered, jerking his head up to stare at him. He was pretty sure he'd actually heard it, but it still had a dreamlike quality to it, especially with Horuss meeting his gaze like that. Even in the nearly-full dark of dusk, he could still see how incredibly blue Horuss's eyes were, how full of concern and maybe even _hope_. 

Something in his expression must have been the signal that Horuss was looking for, because he leaned in close, cupped Rufioh's cheek, and murmured, "I hope this is okay." 

Rufioh nodded, one quick jerk of his head, and then Horuss's lips were on his. 

This kiss was nothing like the awkward, forced passion of Damara's kisses. It was slow and sweet, tender and just a little bit hesitant, as though both of them were worried about scaring the other away. Rufioh's hand found its way into Horuss's hair and he gently twisted his fingers through the long, silky strands. His heart thudded hard against his ribs when Horuss gasped quietly into his mouth and their tongues met, skimming over lips and teeth, and he knew without a doubt that this felt _right_ , he'd been made for this, he'd been made for Horuss. 

And maybe, Horuss had been made for him too. 

There was an aching sort of relief in knowing he was safe here, in Horuss's arms. He never wanted to let go; he just wanted to stay here with Horuss forever, in this truck that smelled like Horuss did, like kindness and strength and reassurance. This heady mix of emotions flooding through him, anchoring him—this was what his first kiss _should_ have been like. But at least it was his first kiss with another guy, so he would count that a success. 

Horuss's pulse was galloping just like his—he could feel it with his hand cupping Horuss's neck. His fingertips traced up, into Horuss's hairline, and the kiss suddenly intensified, the bigger boy suddenly out of his seat and closing the distance between their bodies, and Rufioh fell back against the passenger door, half on the seat and half off, and somehow his legs were spread open and Horuss was between them, pressing against him, and oh, God, he was so hard and Horuss's bulge rubbed against his thigh through two layers of denim and _he wanted this_ , he wanted it so bad, he whined and jerked his hips up against Horuss's and he felt so dirty but he wanted to do it again, he wanted to pull both their jeans off and feel their skin pressed together, gliding across each other, he wanted to lose himself to Horuss, he wanted Horuss so bad— 

"We have to stop," Horuss said hoarsely. 

Rufioh blinked up at him. Both their shirts were riding up and his jacket had almost been pushed down his arms. "Huh?" 

"We're in a rather public area, and in front of your house, moreover." Horuss gently pulled back, letting Rufioh sit up. "I apologize. I don't know what came over me. I'm usually more controlled than that." 

The cold weight of dread settled in Rufioh's chest. Horuss regretted kissing him. He was a mistake. A momentary loss of control. "Sorry," he mumbled, tugging his shirt down and his jacket on. "Thanks for the ride home." He popped the door open and practically fell out of the truck. 

"Rufioh, wait, please." 

The sadness in Horuss's voice was what made him pause and turn around. "Yeah?" 

"Please, don't think I regretted that. The only thing I regret was kissing you in so public a place. Believe me, Rufioh, if we had had the right level of privacy, I might not have been able to stop kissing you. Unless you told me to, that is." 

He half-smiled, the tension in his chest easing. "I don't think that would have happened." 

"All the same." 

Rufioh gave him a full smile now. "So all we have to do is find privacy? I think I can find some a' that." 

With Horuss's returning smile still brightening the dark places in his mind, Rufioh turned and strolled up to his house. Horuss's truck didn't pull away until after the door had closed behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time you think I made a horse pun, you are right.


	22. Chapter 22

The first indication Kankri had that something was funny here was when he nearly got caught by a gaggle of cheerleaders waving their red-and-violet pom-poms in his face. Porrim, mercifully, was not among them, and he buzzed over to her, tossing his books down on the table she was sitting at, leaving Karkat to fend for himself.

"What's got them all hyped up?" he asked with a cautious glance toward the cheerleaders, who had by now accosted another group—it looked like a pair of blond guys and a dark-haired girl.

"Homecoming, remember?" Porrim said sullenly. "That's what the bonfire-slash-pep rally on Friday was all about—which you would have known if you'd actually paid attention."

_Oops._ He did vaguely remember that now. "Yeah, well, I had other things on my mind."

"Fair enough. I imagine they'll be making some kind of announcement about it during homeroom again this morning. The game will be Saturday after next and the dance will be that evening."

_Drat!_ He'd forgotten about homecoming involving both a football game and a dance. He'd never been to a homecoming dance, of course, his father being expressly against such frivolity, but then again, his parents had agreed to let him and Karkat go to the bonfire... So maybe there was a chance now.

Not that he was so sure he really wanted to go—unless he went alone, he didn't really know any girls yet. At least, aside from Porrim, and she probably had had a homecoming date lined up for months now.

Of course, a couple of the other girls he'd met on Friday were viable candidates. Porrim's sister Kanaya seemed nice, and although Rose gave him the creeps a little, she would still be good company. "I suppose my father will take a little convincing to allow me to go."

"Just tell him you're going with me," Porrim suggested.

"Am I?"

Porrim shrugged. "If you want to go with me, sure. I don't usually go homecoming or prom, but if you feel like going for the full high school experience and need a date, I'll accompany you."

Kankri let out a relieved sigh. Well, that solved one problem. "That sounds nice, actually. I suppose now I'll have to prepare a suit."

"That would be nice."

* * *

 

"Oh, yeah, homecomin'!" Cronus said excitedly, taking note of all the bubbly-looking cheerleaders as they watched Tavros and Eridan slink off into the building, trying to avoid the previously-mentioned cheerleaders. "Good thing at least two of us will be able to find dates."

It took Rufioh a full three seconds to realize he was referring to Damara, not Horuss. He felt his face heating up. "Yeah. I mean, I might not even go, though."

"What?" Cronus sounded scandalized. "You _have_ to—I'm not goin' to that shitshow without at least one of the Lost Boys comin' with me! You know neither a' the Makaras are gonna be able to get dates," he added.

He had a point, too. He supposed he'd also feel awkward if he went to the dance without any of his friends there. Unfortunately for him, that meant he was going to have to put up with Damara's affections for the whole night. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"What? I thought you woulda been happy to be goin' to the dance with Damara. All you gotta do is ask, an' I'm sure she'll say yes."

"Yeah, but dances... Cro, they ain't really my style. That's all. Plus I might not be able to afford a ticket, an' Damara's family ain't much better off than mine." Actually, he thought they might have been even worse off—her father had walked out on the family six years ago, leaving her mother to raise Damara and Aradia alone. He'd definitely noticed how threadbare some of her sweaters were getting.

"If you agree to come along, I'll pay for your ticket—an' Damara's, too, since she's almost guaranteed to say yes."

Rufioh felt like a freeloader, but it wasn't the first time Cronus had paid his way for things. It most likely wouldn't be the last, either. He was just the tiniest bit jealous of how he was able to just throw money around like it was no big deal—now that the edge had worn down off his crush on him, he could see that.

_Horuss will probably be going_ , he reminded himself, and for a second, he felt himself brightening. Until he remembered that Horuss would almost certainly have a date, and Rufioh would have to watch some girl hanging on him all night. That was a little upsetting, so he distracted himself with a momentary fantasy of being Horuss's date himself. Of course, the very idea of the two of them going to homecoming together was utterly ridiculous, but it was still nice to think about. Horuss towered over him, nearly as tall as Kurloz's ungainly six feet four inches, but he imagined they'd still have a nice dance or two. And then, when they picked the homecoming king, it would be—

"Hang on—you only wanna go to homecomin' since you think you're gonna get picked for homecomin' king," Rufioh said accusingly.

Cronus shrugged sheepishly, flashing his teeth in a blinding grin. "I mean, Meenah's a shoe-in for homecomin' queen, so it would only make sense that her date be the most likely candidate for king."

"I thought you weren't into this school spirit-type crap," Rufioh grumbled.

"I ain't, but any excuse I can get to show off _this_ gift to humanity..." He motioned to his face.

Rufioh rolled his eyes. His stomach still fluttered a bit whenever he looked at Cronus, but it felt a little like the veil had been lifted and he had a better look at who Cronus really was. Had he always been like this, or was Cronus just in a strange kind of mood today? It could have been the excitement of homecoming on the way, he supposed.

He didn't really have time to ponder it for much longer since right then, the Makara-mobile rolled up next to them. Cronus hopped off the trunk and went to go knock on Kurloz's window and make a face at him.

A cigarette already clenched between his teeth, Kurloz rolled down his window and waved. "What's up, motherfucker? Hear anything?"

"You mean about this weekend?" Cronus looked around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Nothing officially, but I think my parents suspect us. I don't think anyone else is smart enough to have figured it out, though. What about you?"

Kurloz shrugged. "My ol' man an' ol' lady ain't exactly the church-goin' types. I don't think they know. Rufi?"

He drummed his fingers on his thigh. "My ol' man doesn't give a shit about anything."

"Then I guess we're in the clear," Cronus said. "Hey, so check it out. Homecomin's comin' up—either a' you think you'll be able to get dates?"

Rufioh couldn't see Gamzee's face, but Kurloz's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "I—wow, I dunno, motherfucker, maybe? I wouldn't know who to up an' motherfuckin' ask, though. None a' the Fuchsia Ladies want anythin' to do with me, an'—"

"Good point," Cronus said. "I mean, you could ask Aranea, but she'd probably say no."

"I wasn't really plannin' on goin'," Gamzee said.

"If I motherfuckin' go, it'll probably be stag."

"Well, at least me an' Rufi here'll have dates." Cronus glanced back at him for a moment, but the bell rang before he could say anything else on the subject.

"Homeroom," Rufioh muttered, picking up his books and hopping off the trunk of Cronus's car.

Well, if anything, he would have a good excuse to ask Damara to homecoming this morning.

* * *

 

Meenah was immediately suspicious when Cronus swaggered into science class with his jacket hooked on his fingertips. He had a smirk on his face that indicated nothing but bad intentions on his part. "Oh, boy," she heard Damara mutter sarcastically. Meenah just shuffled her deck of cards to keep her hands occupied until he finally sat down across from her.

"Where's your sidekick?" she asked, snapping the cards and pushing them back together.

"Oh, he'll be here soon," Cronus said dismissively. "So, homecomin' in a couple a' weeks."

"Well _netted_. They've only been _glubbin'_ about it during mornin' announcements for the last week."

"I get distracted easily—I can't help it. But look, I was wonderin', you wanna come with me to homecomin'?"

Meenah sighed, setting the deck down on the lab counter. She supposed she didn't have any real reason to say no—after all, Cronus was still her best bet for a socially fulfilling senior year, he was hot, and he was rich. Even if the thought of Aranea's face when she told her who her homecoming date was going to be made he feel a little guilty, she pushed it down. After all, who'd ever heard of two girls going to homecoming together?

And besides, she wasn't even sure that she would want to go with Aranea anyway, even if it _wasn't_ weird. At least kissing Cronus was simple—her kiss with Aranea was confusing and complicated. She liked it, but _that_ was the truly confusing part, because she'd liked kissing Cronus, too. Was that even possible?

But she didn't want to think about that right now. "Yeah, okay. I guess it won't be so bad."

"Really diggin' your enthusiasm, angelfish," Cronus said sarcastically.

" _Clam_ it. I said I'd go, didn't I?" Of course, that she drew her attention to Damara, who was anxiously rocking back and forth on her chair, sitting on her hands. Her eyes were glued to the door, and Meenah knew she must have been waiting for Rufioh to walk in.

The bell rang a few moments later and the teacher closed the door. Rufioh still hadn't shown up. Idly wondering where he could have gotten off to, she began dealing for another round of poker.

* * *

 

Karkat found himself in the lunch line behind a girl with the squeakiest voice he'd ever heard—and that was counting that Nepeta girl he'd caught drawing him last week. (He still hadn't quite gotten over the weirdness of that.) Her dark hair was bobbed short, and her red-framed glasses curved sharply upwards. They almost looked like those cat-eye glasses that a lot of girls wore now, but hers were much thinner and sharper. They could probably put someone's eye out. She was talking to another girl with an olive-green shirt on—and when _she_ turned around, he realized it was Nepeta.

Of course, when she turned, she caught sight of him, too, and she practically pounced, grabbing the other girl by her arm to turn her around, too. "Hey, Karkat! This is my friend Terezi! Terezi, this is Karkat, from my math class!"

"Uh, hi?" Karkat said. He suddenly remembered her—they'd talked briefly at the bonfire. He'd completely forgotten with all the fire and brimstone his father had blasted the day before. Besides, he was bad with faces. At least she looked happier now than she had then. She didn't remember her voice being that high-pitched on Friday, though.

Terezi grinned, and it might have been a trick of the light, but her teeth looked very sharp. "Hey, Karkat. I remember you. We met at the bonfire. You're the preacher's son, right?"

He was never going to get away from this, was he? The school was so big, it would be weeks or even months before he met everyone. He wished he could just stand in the middle of the cafeteria and scream, "YES, I AM THE FUCKING PREACHER'S SON, NOW STOP ASKING ME THAT!"

He wouldn't, of course—the principal would no doubt rat him out to his parents and he didn't relish the feeling of his father's belt again. "Yeah, that's me," he grumbled.

"Hey, if you don't have anyone else to sit with, you can sit with us, if you want!" Nepeta said excitedly. She plopped a paper-wrapped sandwich onto her lunch tray while Terezi reached for a banana. "I'm sure Terezi won't mind, and it sure beats eating alone!"

He picked up a tray of his own and shuffled after the girls. It was nice that he wasn't being completely ignored, he decided. This was the most interaction he'd had with anyone outside of his family—aside from at the bonfire, at least. He tried to avoid talking to the other churchgoers if he could help it. "On one condition: you don't ask about my parents or Louisiana. This place sucks, and that's all you need to know about it."

"Deal!" Nepeta reached for two cupcakes and slid one onto Karkat's tray while he grabbed a slice of pizza. "So what kind of hobbies do you have? You already know I like to draw, and Terezi here is on the debate team."

"I'm gonna be a lawyer, just like my mom," Terezi said.

It was a fair question, and one he hadn't really been prepared to answer. "I guess I like reading. Not the Bible—I've read it a hundred times and it all just seems like a lot of bullshit to me. But I have pretty much everything F. Scott Fitzgerald ever wrote hidden under my bed."

"Why hidden?"

"Are you crazy? If my father knew I was reading such immoral books, he'd—" He closed his mouth abruptly and glanced out one of the windows. It overlooked the back lawn of the school, and all the green somehow calmed him down a bit. As an older student with what looked like bright red hair crossed the lawn with his books cradled in his arms, Karkat finished, "Well, it wouldn't be pretty."

"So what's your favorite book?"

He reached for a milk carton. " _This Side of Paradise_. It's... it's complicated." He followed Nepeta and Terezi to the cashier and waited to pay. Thankfully, the conversation switched around to other things—apparently, the girls had been friends for a few years now and they were planning to go to the movies over the weekend. He didn't catch the name of the movie they planned to see, but he couldn't help feeling a bit jealous that neither of them had issues with parental permission. He couldn't just decide to do something and then do it without his father making a big deal of it, which was why he'd spent the entire summer honing his technique in sneaking out of the house.

Sometimes, it felt like his father didn't even _want_ him—or Kankri—to make friends. But at least Kankri had a friend in Porrim Maryam. Karkat was pretty sure that Kanaya didn't care one way or the other about him. So if he had to make friends with Nepeta and Terezi to fit in, so be it.

At least with Nepeta's persistent curiosity, they never ran out of things to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hanukkah. I know it's been a LONG time since I updated last, but here it is: chapter 22. If I'd started this out not knowing who my primary pairing was going to be, I might be shifting it to being a primarily Rufioh/Horuss fic because there is not enough of those two. However, this is still mostly about Cronus and Kankri (Rufuss is a major secondary one. I'm not even sure EriSol is going to make it in here! According to chapter count, we're nearly halfway through, and I still don't have all my ships set up!)
> 
> So in terms of the story, I'll probably be skipping weeks or so at a time or skimming over portions of the timeline (otherwise, this could end up like the Coming to Terms series--75 chapters in part one and the end of part 2 nowhere in sight). In terms of writing, I'm going to try to publish two chapters a week for awhile. My schedule's getting tight since I'm leaving my current command around the middle or end of April, and I'll be arriving at my next command at the end of May (I'm going to Japan!). Expect nothing in May since I'll be on leave most of that time and busy. After April, updates will most likely resume in June.
> 
> Finally, some of you know this, but I've realized that I'm not a cis woman or simply non-binary. I identify now as transmasculine, I use the pronouns he/him/his, and I go by Evan and Alex (since my name, once I actually change it, will be Evan-Alexander). So yeah. Thanks to everyone for sticking by me and waiting the nearly a year for this update. Sheesh.


	23. Chapter 23

He knew it was a bad idea to skip class, but he also didn't really feel like spending fifty minutes around Cronus and Damara. Meenah wasn't the greatest company either, but at least she wasn't so... _involved_ with his life. Cronus was his best friend and former crush, and Damara was his sort-of almost girlfriend (he shuddered internally when he remembered that), but Meenah was still free from all that associated drama. Besides, with both Cronus and Damara present (and knowing that Cronus had probably already asked Meenah to be his homecoming date), there would be way too much pressure on him to ask Damara to be _his_ date.

So he headed outside and slunk under the bleachers. His intention was to stay there until lunch and make up some bullshit excuse about feeling sick or something when Cronus asked about it later (and he was sure to ask about it), but his plan was interrupted when he heard the sound of a radio playing. It sounded like Bill Haley, but he couldn't be sure. He climbed to his feet and followed the sound toward one of the back buildings.

" _...I said shake, rattle, and roll,_

_I said shake, rattle, and roll,_

_I said shake, rattle, and roll,_

_I said shake, rattle, and roll,_

_Well, you never do nothin'_

_To save your doggone soul."_

Definitely Bill Haley. He'd heard this song a few times on the radio over the summer.

It was coming from behind a slightly-ajar door, along with the sound of metal on metal—he thought he heard a wrench tightening down a bolt, and something else being dropped onto concrete. Rufioh pushed open the door and was hit by a wave of music.

It was the auto shop. He immediately caught sight of a blond someone with sunglasses and his head bent over a popped hood, and someone else was underneath the car itself on a dolly. He was pretty sure he knew who the blond was—Dirk Strider, another senior. He didn't know who else was there, but he was just backing out when he heard a dull _thunk_ and an oddly-familiar voice yell, "Fiddlesticks!"

Dirk, already bent over, dropped his head to laugh. "Just cuss like a normal person, would you? What happened?"

The guy under the car rolled out with a quick jerk of his leg. "Cursing is uncouth," he said, pulling a rag out of his back pocket and beginning to wipe his hands as he sat up, his back against the car door. "And I dropped my wrench. On my forehead."

It was Horuss. All of Rufioh's instincts were suddenly firing, shouting at him to get out of there, but his feet felt rooted to the spot. Horuss's eyes were a brighter shade of blue than he'd seen—or maybe it was just seeing him in daylight that made them seem brighter. He also had a pink blotch on his forehead, probably where the wrench had hit him.

"Yeah, well, you should be more careful. Here." Dirk nudged the wrench with his foot where it had fallen to the floor, kicking it toward Horuss.

That was when Horuss noticed Rufioh standing in the doorway. Rufioh couldn't read his expression, but a moment later, Dirk followed his gaze to Rufioh as well and an eyebrow quirked up.

"Rufioh, shouldn't you be in class?" Horuss asked, gingerly getting to his feet. Rufioh didn't blame him—the dolly looked precarious at best.

He chuckled nervously. "It's only the second week. Not like I'll miss much. Besides, it's boring." _He's gonna think I'm stalking him. Just fucking great._ Part of him wanted to dash away and hide, and part of him wanted to hop up on one of the counters and lurk until lunch. "Who's the teacher here?"

"Boxcar, in the back."

"Boxcar?"

Dirk half-giggled and half-snorted. "That's our nickname for him. His name is Mr. Hart. But he lets us call him Boxcar."

Horuss half-smiled sheepishly. "I had actually forgotten his name was not actually Boxcar."

"He ain't gonna care that I'm here, is he? I mean, this looks like a pretty easy class."

Horuss shrugged, glancing at Dirk. "I don't believe so. He's usually rather lenient about this sort of thing. Dirk's friend Jake has been known to drop by the class from time to time."

Dirk quickly pushed up his sunglasses, probably in a feeble attempt to hide the blush creeping across his face. "Only because he ain't supposed to be in class right now—he's got study hall."

"I guess that makes sense," Rufioh said. He shifted his books in his arms, trying to come up with something else to say, but having an audience only made him nervous. He was afraid to say the wrong thing and end up embarrassing himself or Horuss.

"And what class are you skipping?" Horuss asked.

"Science. Damara's there," he added by way of explanation.

Horuss nodded like he understood. "I see."

"Socket sets are in the back, right?" Dirk asked abruptly, fiddling with a socket wrench.

"Yes. On the back shelf."

"Gotcha." Dirk headed quickly toward the back, and Rufioh was grateful.

"I didn't know you were back here," he said softly, once he figured the radio could cover his voice.

"You didn't?" Horuss kept his voice low as well.

"No—I swear I'm not stalkin' you. I just heard the radio an' followed the music. You just happened to be here."

"So you skipping class had nothing to do with wanting to spend time with me instead of Damara?"

Rufioh was pretty sure he was turning as red as his hair, especially given the sweet smile Horuss was giving him. Those blue eyes looked surprisingly bright—not just because of the light, but because they were set against his dark skin. "Well, I mean, the thought crossed my mind, but I didn't actually _plan_ for—"

"It's alright. To be honest, I was hoping to speak with you today. I was a bit worried that maybe, after last night—"

"What, that you scared me off?" Rufioh scoffed. "Hardly. Bein' able to talk to someone about this without them judgin' me, an' then you..." He felt his cheeks burning again. "Well, it was one of the best nights of my life."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"But honestly, I was kinda thinkin' that maybe _I_ scared _you_ off. I never... I don't know. This is all new for me. An' maybe that's why I didn't wanna go to class today—I didn't wanna see Damara. An' things with Cronus, well..."

"Such as?"

Rufioh chewed on his lip. "I had a crush on him for the longest time. I never told him, an' I only got over it pretty recently, but he's been houndin' me all mornin' about askin' Damara to homecomin' since he doesn't want to go with just Meenah. I'm sure he's already asked her by now, an' I'm sure she already said yes, an' Damara an' Meenah are friends, so I'm sure Damara's gonna be waitin' for me to ask her to homecomin', too. It's a lot of pressure. I wish I could go with you," he added quietly, not meeting Horuss's gaze.

"I—really?" Horuss's surprised tone made Rufioh look up, and he seemed pleased. "I wish that, too. But since that's not really possible, you should ask Damara anyway. I wasn't planning to go, but if you're going to be there, I could make an exception."

It felt like a balloon was swelling in Rufioh's chest. "Well, when you put it like _that_ ," he said with a laugh. "I guess you talked me into it."

Horuss smiled. "Good. And I was also wondering if, perhaps, you'd like to spend some time with me outside of school?"

"You mean like, on an actual date?"

Horuss rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes."

A huge grin split across Rufioh's face. He impulsively went up on his tiptoes to place a quick kiss on Horuss's lips. "I'd love to."

* * *

By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of class and the start of lunch, Cronus had already accepted that Rufioh wasn't coming to class. He'd just assumed that he'd gone home entirely (although why, he couldn't fathom) when Rufioh appeared, heading from the back buildings.

The moment Damara caught sight of him, she began running her fingers through her hair in a hopeless attempt to comb it. Rufioh didn't seem to mind, though—he headed right toward her and caught her hands.

"Sorry I wasn't in class—I wasn't feelin' good. I'm better now," he added quickly at her concerned expression. "Anyway, I was wonderin' if you wanted to go to homecomin' with me."

Cronus was pretty sure he'd never seen Damara look so excited before. She nodded frantically and threw her arms around Rufioh. "I'd love to!"

Cronus clapped him on the back. "Great! You're gettin' a ride with me, though, since Rufi here don't have wheels of his own."

"Ah, shut up," Rufioh said good-naturedly.

To be honest, Cronus was a little relieved. He'd somehow thought that Rufioh would punk out on asking Damara—he hadn't seemed too enthusiastic about the idea earlier. But considering how comfortable Rufioh was now, he just chalked it up to nerves. After all, Damara was his first girlfriend _and_ his first kiss—that was a lot to take in at once.

Together, they made their way to the cafeteria. Damara and Meenah began comparing notes on their next class—algebra, which they had together—and occasionally roping Rufioh into the conversation. Cronus noticed that Rufioh kept his arm around Damara's waist the whole time. That was also a definite improvement.

Cronus wasn't sure what he'd been doing during science class, but it had obviously boosted his self-confidence.

Normally, he would have been making himself heard as much as possible, but today he felt like taking a metaphorical step back to observe what was going on. There were dozens of conversations going on around him, but for some reason, the one he picked up on had the phrase "class elections" in them.

"...I really believe I can do some good for the junior class," the voice was saying. "I just hope I can make them see by the time class elections roll around."

"Well, you have three weeks," another voice responded. "I'm sure you'll think of something. Unfortunately, most of my friends are seniors."

"That's perfectly alright. Besides, I need to earn their trust and respect on my own merit. Not that I wouldn't mind such a stellar endorsement from a superb upperclassman, but I can't fall back on you for everything. Besides, these juniors are to be _my_ constituents."

Cronus rolled his eyes. A cocky one, this one was. He looked around to see if he could locate who was speaking, and his gaze landed on Porrim—and that obnoxiously opinionated junior from his debate class. The preacher's kid. This asshole was going to run for the junior class council?

Cronus had never entertained the notion of running for any positions on the student council (aside from some idle daydreams as a freshman, but after his bid for treasurer was quashed, he found his enthusiasm likewise ruined), but even he knew that Vantas didn't stand a chance. Who'd really vote for the new guy?

He shook his head and focused back on the conversation at hand—easier, because Kurloz and Gamzee showed up a few moments later, and Aranea and Vriska shortly thereafter. An interesting notion planted itself in his head, and he blurted out, "Hey, Kurl, why don't you ask Aranea to homecomin'?"

The whole table stared at him—Aranea and Kurloz both horrified, and everyone else amused. "Sorry, Cronus, but I'm not sinking _that_ low," she said.

"I think that's the worst idea you've ever had," Vriska added, laughing. "And no, I'm not going with Gamzee, before you ask."

He _had_ thought it would be interesting for the Makaras and the Serkets to go together, but based on the reaction, it was a bad suggestion. "Yeah, sorry."

"Yikes. _That_ was awkward," Damara said.

"Super awkward," Rufioh agreed.

Surprisingly, Kurloz hadn't actually said anything in response. Cronus expected _something_ , but after that brief, shocked look, he'd gone right back to his pizza. It wasn't uncommon for Kurloz to not talk much at school, but Cronus figured he would have some kind of reaction.

"Well, never mind. I've just been so preoccupied with figurin' out how to soup up my wheels, so..." It was a lame excuse. No one was going to buy it.

"You should talk to the cats in the auto shop class," Rufioh suggested. "Horuss an' Dirk have a lot of good ideas."

With that, the girls started talking about their plans for the weekend, and the tension was broken. Cronus could have kissed him, he was so relieved. "Who? Dirk Strider, right?" That one, he knew. The Striders tended to stick out around here.

"Yeah. An' Horuss Zahhak."

"He ain't a senior, is he?"

"Yeah, he is. He's on the wrestlin' team."

"Oh. That explains why I got no idea who the fuck he is. When's the class? Maybe I could cut class one day an' drop by to see them."

Rufioh shifted in his seat. "Right before lunch, actually, so today's out."

"Durin' our science class?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sure I can skip that, then. Good idea."

"Roxy! Where have you been hiding?" Damara asked suddenly, quickly getting to her feet.

Cronus glanced up as Damara threw her arms around the tipsy blond, who giggled and hugged her back. "Y'know—here, there, an' pretty much anywhere."

He'd almost completely forgotten that Roxy was an official Fuchsia Lady. She was in mostly advanced classes and so shared no classes with anyone else, and she was in an almost constant state of inebriation. He didn't know what she had in common with the rest of the girls, but they all made room for her whenever she showed up, so it was clear she was still accepted by them.

"Don't you usually spend your lunches in the library?" Vriska asked.

"Yeah, or the science lab. I get free reign of _all_ the chemicals," Roxy said with another giggle. "But I got hungry today, so I figured I'd see what's good."

Actually, Roxy seemed less drunk than Cronus remembered her—that, or her alcoholic functioning was getting better. She barely slurred once.

" _Whale_ , to answer your question, there ain't no _fin_ good around here," Meenah grumbled, picking at her sandwich."

"The pizza's pretty good," Damara argued.

"It's greasy as hell—it's gonna make you break out."

"Actually, I don't think—" Roxy started, but she was interrupted by the feedback of the PA system and the principal announcing, "Good afternoon, students. I apologize for interrupting your classes and lunch, but it is my pleasure to announce that tickets for homecoming are officially on sale! Enjoy the rest of your day!"

Cronus threw down the rest of his soda and stood up. "Alright, cats, I'll catch you later. I got some tickets to buy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, is this not "The Rufioh and Horuss Story Hour"? God damn it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a double whammy.

While the rest of the student body was excited for the beginning of homecoming ticket sales, the news Kankri had been waiting for came the next day: the official registration for people running for student council positions. Karkat still thought he was deluded for running, but Kankri signed up anyway. By the time he got to the school office, there were already two other entrants for junior class president—both of them students he didn't know. It was only the first day, though, and registration would be open until Friday. He just hoped the competition wouldn't get much steeper over the next three days.

He had other things on his mind, too—he still had to tell his parents he wanted to go to homecoming with Porrim, and buy the tickets, and dig another dress shirt out of his closet (he wouldn't wear the white one he always wore to church). He was nervous about broaching the subject, especially with his father, but he supposed the worst they could say was no, and he'd have to tell Porrim she didn't have to go with him anymore.

It would probably be more of a money issue than anything else. Tickets were five dollars each, or seven dollars for two. Porrim would probably offer to cover her own $3.50, but as soon as his parents heard about _that_ , they would insist on paying the whole thing instead. Yikes.

But he wasn't one to put off unpleasantness for long, so once he and Karkat arrived home on Tuesday, he immediately went to speak with his mother—his father was most likely not home yet. He knocked gingerly on his parents' bedroom door and said, "Mother?"

The door wasn't fully latched shut and so swung open under his knock. His mother was inside, but to his surprise, she was sitting on the bedroom floor, her legs tucked under her, a thick book that resembled a photo album in her hands. There was a look of unfathomable sadness on her face. Her head jerked up as the door opened, and she immediately slammed the book shut. "Kankri. What are you doing?"

"Are you alright?" he asked, ignoring her question. "You look..." He couldn't find the right word to convey how utterly melancholy and helpless she seemed.

She bit her lip and looked back down at the book in her hands. Without answering, she flipped open and turned to a page. "Come here."

He went to sit down next to her. She had the book opened to a page that was full of Vantases—his paternal grandparents on their wedding day in 1897, his father as a boy, growing up, as an adult... along with another young man he'd never seen before. He appeared in several pictures alongside his father. "Mother, who is that?" he asked, pointing at a picture of his father standing next to the other young man. _Karter & Kalvin, Karter's graduation, 1929_, the caption read.

"That's your father and his brother," his mother replied quietly.

"I didn't know he had a brother."

"Kalvin died in 1938. The reverend doesn't like to talk about him, even with me."

"What happened? He looks so young."

"He was only 26. There was an accident."

"I'm sorry."

His mother shook her head. "Never mind it. It's in the past. It doesn't matter anymore." Suddenly brisk, she closed the book with a snap and slid it under the bed, probably where it had hidden for years. "The reverend would be upset if he knew I showed you that album, so don't mention it to him. We'll keep it our little secret," she added with a small smile. It was betrayed by how red her face was—it was clear that she'd been crying. "Now then, what was on your mind?"

"Well, homecoming is coming up, and Porrim—"

"I see," she interrupted, her smile widening. "I'll see to it that you and Porrim have a lovely time. Your father might take some convincing, but don't worry—I'll handle him. How much are tickets?"

"Seven dollars for two."

"Of course." She elegantly rose to her feet and went to her dresser. When she came back, she had a five-dollar bill and two one-dollar bills in her hand. "Keep that in your wallet."

As soon as he'd pocketed the money, his mother embraced him. He was surprised to realize that he was taller than her now—she was five-foot-four, and he was getting dangerously close to five-foot-six. He didn't have high hopes for his height since his father was barely five-foot-ten, but he knew he was only a few months away from a growth spurt—he was only sixteen, after all.

"I love you, Kankri. I would do anything for you—I hope you know that."

"Of course," he said, slightly surprised. It wasn't that his mother wasn't loving—she was—she just wasn't usually so affectionate. "I love you, too, Mother."

* * *

 

The next day, he was able to procure the homecoming tickets early in the day and present them to Porrim during lunch. He found her out on the bleachers with the other cheerleaders, watching a group of eight trying out for three open spots on the squad.

"She's definitely gonna make it," Porrim said, gesturing with a fry to a girl with dark, curly hair. "She's got the most talent out of any of these other suckers. That one," she added, pointing at another, much smaller girl, with light-brown hair, "is probably gonna make it, too. She's the sister of one of the current cheerleaders, Meulin Leijon, so that'll probably tip the balance in her favor. She's not bad, either. As for the rest of them..." She shrugged. "So, how much convincing did your folks need to let you go to homecoming?"

"Not much," Kankri admitted. "I mentioned it to my mother and she was immediately on board. She also said she'd take care of convincing my father, so I didn't even have to do that."

"Impressive. I like it."

For the rest of the week, Kankri spent his time plotting, writing his campaign speech to the junior classes, and trying to figure out how many posters he should put up—as well as _where_ to put them, and what they'd say. He figured he'd go for something simple, like "Vote for Vantas! Junior Class President '55-'56" but he wanted a second opinion on that. It helped that his debate teacher offered to read over his completed speech and give him some pointers, and it was also a happy coincidence that most of his plotting took place in the library—he was able to keep out of the way of the gang of greasers.

They hadn't accosted him once (personally—he wasn't convinced they had nothing to do with the egging of the church the previous week), but he still liked to avoid them whenever possible. Especially considering the ringleader, Cronus Ampora, was in his debate class, and Kankri always found himself oddly distracted whenever Ampora was around. Of course, that was only because Kankri was intimidated by him, but maybe it also was because he was a little bit in awe of Ampora. He hated to admit it, but Ampora seemed to embody the careless coolness of someone who didn't have to answer to anyone, and Kankri was a bit jealous.

Ampora was handsome and rich and he didn't care at all what people thought of him. Kankri wished he could be like that, too.

So he worked in the library, knowing he wouldn't be able to focus in debate class, and hoped he could convince Porrim—and maybe Kanaya and Rose—to help him with campaign posters. He certainly wouldn't be able to do it alone, and Karkat would no doubt refuse to help him, either.

This weekend, he would focus entirely on his campaign.

* * *

 

On Friday, Rufioh managed to avoid another awkward double-date with Cronus, Meenah, and Damara by citing all the homework he had to make up (not an outright lie—he already had a couple of overdue assignments, and their teachers were starting to go harder on homework since it was the second week) and promising he would _try_ to make it out on Saturday night. Of course, the moment the sun went down, he was out the door, heading to the Sunoco, waiting for Horuss's truck to pull into the parking lot.

He was nervous. It was their first official date, and he was still in his regular clothes (not that he had any idea what "date" clothes might consist of). He also didn't know how he'd explain away the fact that he was hanging out with a jock if they somehow ran into anyone they knew—maybe some excuse about Horuss and car parts? It was flimsy so far, and he hoped he wouldn't have to actually think of anything.

But he forgot to be nervous when Horuss pulled up next to him, reached across the seats to pop open the door, and smiled at him. He climbed in and nearly laughed—Horuss had left his letter jacket at home and traded it for a leather one. "Nice threads."

"I figured two boys in leather jackets in a truck would cause slightly less suspicion than if one of us still looked like a jock."

"Good idea. Where are we off to?" He couldn't imagine where they might be going—surely nowhere in public.

"I figured that we could grab some food from a drive-in—"

"As long as it ain't the Freeze King. I think Cronus an' Meenah are there an' if they see me, they're gonna be _real_ suspicious, since I told them I wasn't goin' out tonight."

"That's fair. Have you been to the Red Rocket near Columbus?"

Columbus was forty-five minutes away. Not terribly far, but far enough so that people from Lakeside probably wouldn't be there. "Sounds good."

"My family also owns a farm out there. No one's there right now, so if you wanted to, we could also stop by there."

Rufioh grinned. "I've never been cow-tippin'. Sounds like fun."

"We don't—" A look of comprehension crossed Horuss's face. "You were joking."

"Yeah."

"Of course." Horuss smiled. "Then let's be on our way."

"Ready when you are, doll."

The ride took too long and yet not long enough. Rufioh was hungry, having anticipated that they would be getting dinner somewhere, but he also didn't want to get there—it would be that much closer to when they had to come back.

The conversation flowed between them surprisingly easily. Rufioh talked about his mother and how it had torn apart his family when she'd died—and then, trying to keep things light, mentioned all the dogs his family owned. Horuss told him about his hobbies, like building ham radios and other things with circuits. It blew Rufioh's mind how such things were possible, but he reminded himself that television sets existed and maybe twenty years ago, he would have been astonished that those things worked. Either way, it was clear that Horuss was surprisingly smart.

They ordered their food from the drive-thru before continuing out to Horuss's family's farm. Even though he promised he wouldn't, he snuck a couple of fries out of the bag when Horuss wasn't looking.

The farm consisted of the main house, a barn a dozen yards away, and a few smaller, auxiliary sheds here and there. "We don't use it for much anymore," Horuss explained as he climbed out, and Rufioh followed him with the food, "but my father says he wants to move into this place once Equius and I graduate. We had corn back there, and some wheat. Corn was the biggest thing. We had horses, too, but my aunt took them in when she moved to Kentucky a few years back," he added. He headed toward the barn. "I think they left the..." His voice trailed off as he fit a key into the padlock on the door. The lock popped open, and he pushed open the door. It must have taken every ounce of strength he had, because his muscles seemed to strain and flex beneath his leather jacket. Slowly but surely, the massive barn door creaked open four feet, just far enough for them to squeeze in.

"Ah, yes," Horuss said triumphantly, flipping on a light.

"It looks like a movie theater in here," Rufioh said, awed.

"The film projector was a gift," Horuss said. "I think there's some movies in the house—all we need to do is wheel the projector outside and we can have our own drive-in movie theater."

Rufioh would have voiced his approval, except he'd already set down their dinner and flung his arms around Horuss's neck, pulling him into a deep kiss.

It only took them about twenty minutes to set up the projector in the bed of the truck facing forward and find a movie for them to watch. Their food was cold by then, but Rufioh didn't care—he was here with Horuss, watching a twenty-year-old movie he'd never even heard of, on an actual date with him. They had a blanket wrapped around them to keep them warm, and once Rufioh was done eating, he curled up into Horuss's side, secretly pleased when Horuss wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

He wanted to stay here forever, watching movies and eating cold burgers and snuggling up to Horuss, enjoying the soothing beat of his heart and the way he smelled, all warm and safe. "This is the best date I've ever been on," he murmured.

"By far," Horuss agreed. He reached across their bodies and grabbed Rufioh's free right hand with his left. Maybe it was just Rufioh's clouded thinking, but it seemed like their fingers fit together perfectly.

As soon as the movie ended, Rufioh reluctantly pulled himself away to stretch for a moment, and Horuss took the opportunity to gather up the trash and throw it away. He then took the movie off the projector and started disassembling the equipment.

"Do we really gotta go back, doll?" Rufioh asked, nearly whining, as he sat across from Horuss in the bed of the truck.

"It's nearly eleven. At this rate, you won't be home until midnight, and I, even later."

Rufioh scoffed. "No one's gonna miss me."

"Tavros would."

Dammit, Horuss was right. He doubted Tavros was going to go out of his way to piss off their old man, but sometimes the smallest thing could set him over the edge. "A fair point. I suppose we should go back."

"Before we do, I have to ask you something. I know that we can't really go steady, especially since you're technically dating Damara, but..." Horuss pulled his class ring off his right hand. "Will you wear my ring?"

Rufioh was grateful for the dark, because he knew his face was turning red—but he was delighted. "Of course!" He practically launched himself into Horuss's arms and pinned him to the side of the bed, kissing him again. His chest felt so full, it might have burst. He couldn't remember when he'd been so happy—how did he deserve any of this?

He felt Horuss take his hand and slide his ring onto his right middle finger—the ring was too big for his ring finger. "I won't be able to wear it like this all the time, though," he whispered.

"I know. But when it's just us..."

"When it's just us, when I can be all yours..." Rufioh sighed, resting his forehead against Horuss's. "I might not be able to tell anyone, but my heart is yours."

"And mine, yours," Horuss said quietly, running his thumb over Rufioh's knuckles.

It was past eleven-thirty before either of them bothered to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God help me. It's amazing what I can get done when you only take away my internet.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never went to homecoming in high school, and I imagine it was different in the 90s than 2004-2008 anyway. So here, have a bunch of improbable events.

It was a tradition for the homecoming dance to take place in the school gymnasium (as opposed to prom, which happened at one of the local banquet halls), so Cronus knew exactly what to expect when he walked through the double doors with Meenah on his arm. Rufioh and Damara were only a few steps behind them, but he didn't particularly care about them at the moment. A band was playing their cover of "Rocking Around the Clock," and Meenah was already rocking her shoulders to the music. He wanted to pull her right out to the dance floor, but there weren't very many people out there. He wasn't about to start dancing with only four other couples. It was too early.

"We should go get our picture taken!" Damara said suddenly, tugging Rufioh toward one corner, where an archway with a fake foresty background and a camera in front was set up. A few couples were milling nearby, one couple under the arch, and a photographer getting ready to take their picture.

"Wow," Meenah laughed. "I knew they were a little lame, but I didn't realize they were _that_ boring."

She clearly thought commemorative photographs were tacky. Cronus personally agreed, but he also suspected that Damara hadn't been sure she'd even be going to her senior homecoming and so wanted something to remember it by. As for Rufioh, he didn't have much choice—he was just along for the ride.

"We should probably go find our seats," Cronus said.

"Probably. We're sittin' with them, right?"

"That was the plan."

They started prowling through the tables, trying to scope out the best table—not too close to the back, not too close to the front, but still within easy reaching of the makeshift stage where the band was playing. Meenah figured she was a shoe-in for Homecoming Queen, and, shockingly, Cronus was up for Homecoming King. He had no idea who'd nominated him, but it was hard not to be flattered, especially when he'd made it to the top four. He also had no idea who else had been nominated, since when the announcement had been made the day before, he'd been skulking under the bleachers, avoiding his history class. He hadn't bothered asking, and he frankly didn't care. He didn't think he was going to actually get it, so he just shrugged it all off.

On their first circuit of the room, they ended up smacking into Porrim Maryam, who was leaning up against a table in a jade-green dress that set off her eyes. She crossed her arms as they approached, and her sour look was enough provocation for Cronus to steer Meenah toward her.

"Hey, Por," he said coolly, "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Normally I choose not to be associated with such trivial events, but my date was rather set on attending, so I graciously agreed to accompany him."

"Date? Where?" Cronus asked, looking around. No one was in the immediate vicinity, except the preacher's kid, Vantas, who was weaving in their direction with punch in his hands.

Porrim turned and threw out her arm as Vantas reached them and set down the glasses of punch. "Kankri here's my date."

For some reason, that struck Cronus as so wildly funny, he nearly collapsed with laughter. " _Him_?" he managed to choke out, doubled over as he was. "Oh, my God, Por, I never pegged you for the devout type!"

Even Meenah was cackling behind her hands. Kankri Vantas looked a little pissed-off, though. Cronus couldn't quite tell—due to the low light, Kankri's dark skin, and his own tears—but the junior looked like he was turning a little bit red. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he spat, "It might surprise you, but I'm less like my father than you think."

"Yep, that's a surprise, alright!"

Kankri's hands balled into fists, and he spat, "Fuck you, Ampora!"

 _That_ was a surprise. Cronus genuinely never expected to hear from Kankri. He stopped laughing and actually _looked_ at him for a moment, and even though Kankri was clearly fuming, the first thought that floated to the surface of his mind was _He's hot._

He had no idea where _that_ had come from, but he shrugged it off. It was understandable, after all. After three weeks of seeing him in school, hiding behind unflattering clothes and messy hair, now that he wore a well-fitting suit and with his hair actually combed for once, it was more obvious now. He had a nicely-shaped face, and his eyelashes were really long. Kankri _was_ actually fairly attractive when he put some effort into his appearance.

And Cronus really hadn't expected the words "Fuck you" to come out of Kankri's mouth, either. He had to admit that Kankri earned quite a bit of respect from Cronus, especially considering he was a preacher's son.

"Jegus flippin' Christ. Let's just _go_ ," Meenah grumbled, tugging at his arm. It was a testament to how floored he still was that he allowed her to pull him away, toward the other side of the gym.

The moment they walked away, Porrim turned to Kankri with a smug grin on her face. "Mr. Vantas, I had no idea you even _knew_ words like that."

"Have you ever had the unfortunate opportunity to converse with my brother? That's my internal monologue—I just keep a more meticulously-maintained filter between my brain and my mouth."

Porrim giggled. "I've never seen him look so shocked, _ever_. That is probably the single greatest thing that will happen all evening. We might as well just go home now, because nothing else that happens tonight could conceivably match the sheer joy that one event gave me. In fact, it's all downhill from here for the rest of my life. I should just drop out of school an join a convent."

"You're not Catholic," Kankri pointed out.

"I'll convert first. No, you're right, joining a convent is a stupid idea. I'll go be a librarian."

"I wouldn't dare tell you what to do with your life, but we should at least see this evening to its denouement. We _did_ pay to be here, after all. Besides, I might get another chance to tell off Cronus Ampora again." His breathing hitched when he thought about that—the words had just flown out of his mouth before he could stop them, like some kind of ingrained reaction to his particular brand of jackassery. But Ampora, far from being angry or offended, had just seemed impressed. But it wasn't just awe on his face. There was something else there. He _knew_ he'd seen that look somewhere before, but he couldn't figure it out.

"Hey. You doing okay there? You seem a little... bamboozled."

"Huh? Oh. Yes. I just... didn't expect that altercation to transpire quite the way that it did, is all. I was expecting more..."

"Assholishness?" Porrim suggested.

"An astute summary."

"Honestly, I'm right there with you. I've never seem him back down so quickly from what was tantamount to issuing a fight challenge. He's usually the first one to pull out his switchblade, like some kind of over-hyped, overly-paranoid fake greaser. I know he talks a big game and he dresses the part, but really, the guy's bark is worse than his bite. He wouldn't know a real greaser if one trounced him at the Freeze King. He's also never been in a real fight once, at least that I've seen. Rufioh Nitram, on the other hand... Well, I know he's got some weird thing going on with his family, but he gets it, probably better than anyone else in The Lost Boys."

"I've seen him with black eyes and split lips. Is that from fighting?"

"Ye—you mean like street fighting? No—his dad beats the crap out of him. This isn't really common knowledge—I only know because I used to hang out with them as a sophomore, so don't go spreading it around. I don't think he wants a whole lot of people to know, get it?"

"Yeah, I get it. Maybe we should move on, then."

By seven-thirty, most of the gymnasium was filled with people, either milling around the dance floor, actually dancing, or hovering near the tables. Rufioh and Damara were finally finished in the picture-taking line and had made their way to the table that Cronus and Meenah had settled at. Surprising all of them, Kurloz was there, too, and he'd even made a halfway decent attempt at detangling his hair. Most of it still fell over his eyes, though.

That was right around the time the principal got onstage and took the microphone, and as soon as she did, the whole gymnasium fell silent.

"Alright, students, please find your seats. In a few moments, the homecoming committee will be handing out the ballots for your homecoming king and queen. While they're doing that, I'm going to call up your nominees. For homecoming queen, we have Meulin Leijon..."

At the next table over, with her back to Kurloz, Meulin stood up and practically skipped to the stage amid a fair amount of applause.

"...Porrim Maryam..."

Porrim followed behind her, seemingly oblivious to her own applause.

"...Damara Megido..."

Damara let out a giggle and kissed Rufioh's cheek. "I'm sure we're gonna win," she whispered before hurrying up to the stage.

_We?_

"...and Meenah Peixes."

Meenah tossed her hair and went to join the other candidates.

"And for our homecoming kings, we have Cronus Ampora..."

Cronus smirked as he got up. Rufioh was pretty sure he was going to win—but then again, he didn't even know who else was in the running.

"...Rufioh Nitram..."

 _Oh, holy fuck._ His face burned and his legs seemed to be jelly, but he managed to get to his feet and stumble after Cronus. Why hadn't anyone told him about this? No one would vote for him anyway, but the thought of winning and having to dance with whoever the queen was... he was legitimately terrified. Who'd even nominated him, anyway? It had to be some kind of joke.

"...Dirk Strider..."

Dirk looked even less pleased than he did. He kept his sunglasses on as he slouched to the stage, but Rufioh was pretty sure he was scowling.

"...and Horuss Zahhak."

 _Yikes._ Well, now he wouldn't have to search the crowd for Horuss to keep himself occupied—he was going to be right next to him, only three feet away.

And what if Horuss won? Rufioh would have to see him dancing with the homecoming queen—and he was even less excited about than prospect than his own victory. He prayed it would be either Cronus or Dirk—and if he had his way, it would be Dirk, since he was sure Cronus would be bragging about it for _months_ if he won.

As for the homecoming queen, he just hoped Meenah wouldn't win, because if she did, they'd never hear the end of that, either.

The principal kept talking, saying stuff about how the homecoming king and queen was a tradition and how they should embody the ideals of the school and how they had a fine group of students to choose from (Rufioh wanted to laugh—three of the potential homecoming kings were the farthest thing from that ideal; Horuss, at least, was a well-liked jock, while Cronus and Dirk were just good-looking rebels, and he was... well, just a rebel) and a bunch of other stuff that Rufioh couldn't quite keep track of because his ears were ringing. He probably wouldn't have even known when to go sit down if Cronus hadn't nudged him.

The ballots were waiting for them by the time they got back to their respective tables. Kurloz already had his ballot folded up in the middle, but it wasn't folded in half—somehow, he'd managed to fold it into a crane. Rufioh figured he was tripping on something different tonight if he could focus on the task long enough.

As soon as the pencil got to him, he marked Damara's name right away—after all, if she won, that would be that much less time he'd have to spend with her. After another moment's thought, he checked next to Dirk Strider's name. Then he passed the pencil to his left and folded up his own ballot, sliding it into the middle.

Jade couldn't stop giggling as Dirk finally sank back into his seat. "You didn't tell me you were up for homecoming king!"

"Yeah, I was hopin' it was a joke," he grumbled. "Let one of those other assholes get it. Well, not Ampora—the guy is a huge tool. Nitram didn't want to be up there any more than I did. So, Zahhak, then."

"Oops," Jake said, reaching for his already-folded ballot. "I wanted to see you in a crown."

Dirk shuddered and put an X next to Zahhak's name. As for the queens, well... Peixes was out, since she was just as obnoxious as her boyfriend. As much as he would be amused by a certain amount of strife in the greasers' group by voting Megido, he wasn't a huge fan of her, either. She was still his second choice, though, over Maryam, who was incredibly stuck-up. That only left Leijon, who, despite being a cheerleader, seemed genuinely nice. They'd had a few brief interactions and she'd never struck him as vain or rude.

Zahhak and Leijon it was.

Dinner was served shortly after the ballots were collected, so Dirk didn't have too much time to stew over the results. It was out of his hands now, so there was no point in obsessing over it.

That didn't stop him from dreading the moment the principal walked back onstage with a small sheet of paper in her hand. It had only been forty-five minutes—had the homecoming committee really gotten the ballots counted so fast?

Apparently they had, because she seemed quite satisfied with the results. "Students, I have here the results of the homecoming election. It was a very close race, especially for homecoming queen, but we have our winners. Our homecoming 1955 queen is..."

The drummer in the band played a light drumroll, and a few people laughed.

"Meulin Leijon!"

Even from across the room, Dirk was pretty sure he could hear Meenah Peixes cursing. It might have just been his imagination, but he liked to think she was livid.

Meulin hurried up to the stage with a huge grin. She was so excited, she was practically shaking.

"And, finally, our homecoming 1955 king is..."

Another drumroll. Dirk crossed his fingers under the table, hoping it wasn't him.

"Horuss Zahhak!"

Dirk slumped back in his seat, a wave of relief washing over him. Amid thunderous applause, Horuss made his way to the stage. He actually had to bend over slightly to let the principal crown him since he was eight inches taller than her, but he was a solid foot taller than Meulin, making for a rather interesting picture. They didn't seem all that awkward around each other, and Dirk thought he remembered something about them being friends. _Well, that's good_ , he thought as Horuss escorted Meulin to the dance floor. At least _someone_ was happy about this whole ordeal.

If he ever found out who nominated him in the first place, he'd kick their ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but what if this fic goes on longer than 50 chapters? I really have no idea how long it might end up being... I could possibly compress it down to 50, then again, it could be up to 100. SOMEONE KILL ME.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything in this story is historically accurate. Want to know why we haven't heard any Elvis in the story? Because his first studio single wasn't recorded and put on the air until 1956, six or seven months after the story starts. Want to know how much sifting I had to do just to learn about POPCORN and if it was commercially available for home preparation in 1955? Like SO MUCH of it. I should have set this in 1957 or '58, for real.

Porrim's living room was a mess of poster board and paint. Newspaper covered most of the floor, where their small group was working. On the coffee table (which had been pushed against the wall to allow them ample room to work) was several foil tins of E-Z Pop popcorn, filling the air with a deliciously salty smell. Kankri was privately jealous that Porrim's mother could afford to buy popcorn for the family for everyday occasions—the last time he'd had popcorn was at a movie with his parents a year before.

Porrim, of course, seemed to think nothing of it—she, Kanaya, and Rose munched happily while they stenciled and painted in letters. Both he and Tavros Nitram, on the other hand, only ate a few pieces here and there.

Kankri could tell that Tavros was even more unused to such luxury than he was. The sophomore's jeans were threadbare and several sizes too big, held up by a ratty belt, and his shirt was loose as well. They were probably hand-me-downs from his older brother. He was pretty well-aware that the Nitrams were practically dirt poor, but couldn't Tavros's mother at least have patched up the hole in the back of his pant leg? He was too polite to say anything, but he did wonder. And anyway, he appreciated the help that the four of them were giving him. Without their assistance, he knew he wouldn't be able to make nearly as many posters as they were churning out. Even with just him and Porrim, it would have been an uphill struggle.

"So, tell me, Kankri," Rose said abruptly, jarring his attention away from the downward stroke of an _A_ , "what's your actual campaign platform going to be like? I know it doesn't really matter to any of us, since you're the only junior here, but I'm curious about the outsider's perspective you plan to bring to our educational institution in general."

"I must admit, I find myself pondering the same," Kanaya agreed. She set down her brush for a moment to stretch her back, raising her arms above her head. Her back audibly cracked when she arched it. "What sets you apart from the other candidates for junior class president—how many?"

"Just two," Kankri replied.

"That's not so bad. So what could you bring to the table that the others couldn't? If you aren't different enough, you won't get the votes you need to win. What issues have you noticed being a problem?"

"And I swear to God, if you say something about your faith being your anchor, I will backhand you," Porrim said sweetly.

"Well, I—I'm diplomatic," he offered. "I can talk to anyone, about anything. And I also find that authority figures, especially the ones at the school, seem to take me more seriously because of my father."

"That may be true, but it will be difficult to bring that point across during your campaign," Rose pointed out, fishing a few pieces of popcorn out of the tin. "If you bandy about the fact that you're a skilled manipulator, people will be _less_ trusting of you." She punctuated her point by tossing the popcorn into her mouth.

He didn't feel like he was a skilled manipulator—Rose was taking his statement grossly out-of-context. But rather than argue, he changed tack. "I may be an outsider, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, since I wouldn't be constrained by the faulty traditions in place."

"Such as?" Kanaya asked. She tilted her head to the side.

"Excuse me?"

"Faulty traditions? What, exactly, are you referring to? What does the school have a tradition of doing that is such an issue?"

"I—well..." He hated to admit that he hadn't thought about it much. But as his mind flew over his last few weeks, he finally landed on something. "Communication. At the risk of sounding like some kind of elitist, at this school, there seems to be a bit of a breakdown in communication between the staff and the students, whereas at my old school, the students were better-informed. So maybe the teachers and principals could give details on upcoming events to the student councils, and then during class meetings, the student council—"

"Class meetings?" Rose asked, her eyebrow raised.

"Yes, when the different grades meet, all seniors and juniors and sophomores and freshmen in different locations, and they discuss upcoming events and issues that affect them, so the student council can relay those concerns to the faculty and staff so they can be appropriately addressed."

The other four exchanged puzzled glances.

"We don't have those," Porrim said.

Horror flooding through Kankri, his eyes widened, even as Tavros said, "It actually sounds like a good idea, though."

Rose and Kanaya both nodded. "That would... actually be hugely beneficial," Kanaya added. "I agree that the communication structure is flawed, but your class meeting idea sounds like an excellent remedy."

"But that wasn't even my idea!" Kankri protested. "But the fact that you don't have class meetings..." His voice trailed off. The school didn't have class meetings. He just assumed that the reason he hadn't heard anything about them was because it was so early in the academic year and the student council hadn't been elected yet. It never occurred to him that there simply _were_ no class meetings to be had. Part of him didn't want to believe it, but... "I could make that part of my campaign platform. If elected, I will ensure a meeting platform for all the grades to address their grievances with their student council representatives and the school faculty."

"Lofty promises," Porrim yawned, "but what happens if you get elected and the principal vetoes your proposal? You can _say_ you'll start those meetings, but if they tell you to fuck off, well, you just have a whole class full of juniors who are pissed that you didn't keep your promise. I'd ask the principal first if she'd be willing to work with something like that."

"I supposed that's fair," Kankri said slowly.

"So what was your actual idea?" Tavros asked. He reached for the popcorn hesitantly, like he wasn't sure it was real.

"Hmm? Oh, right. Well, the morning announcements always seem a bit... clunky, I suppose? Maybe we could do away with them entirely and let—"

"Nope, not happening," Porrim said. "Quentin would _never_ give up her daily speaking platform. Besides, birthdays get announced during those morning soliloquies. Too many people look forward to hearing their names over that speaker to get rid of it."

"And some of us languish in the hell of summer birthdays, never to hear our names announced over a loudspeaker with a cheerfully-wished 'happy birthday' to follow," Kankri grumbled.

"When's your birthday again?"

"July nineteenth. Unless I wound up in summer school, I will literally never have school on my birthday."

"Well, look on the bright side," Kanaya said. "At least you will literally never have school on your birthday! I, on the other hand, have almost always had my birthday fall on a school day. Like just this past Tuesday. And the same with Porrim."

"And me," Rose said. "Early December is the worst."

"And me. But at least May first is usually warm," Tavros added. "I wish I never had to go to school on my birthday."

Maybe they had a point, but Kankri still felt a twinge of jealousy. He and Karkat were both in the same boat with their summer birthdays. In grade school, they'd never gotten to share cupcakes on their birthdays or received tiny decorative erasers from their teachers. The one time Karkat had asked to have a birthday party, only one other person had shown up—everyone else RSVP'd no because their families had taken them out of town for the first month of summer vacation. Most of their old friends had barely registered their birthdays unless they happened to also fall within the eight weeks between the end of one school year and the beginning of another. Just once, he wished he could experience that.

But he seemed to be outnumbered here, so he swallowed it. "Alright. So she won't give up her platform. That's fair. But I wonder if she can be convinced to scale back her announcements—maybe give a brief overview instead of going terribly in-depth—and further details could be disseminated by the student council. After all, I find that even my mind wanders during her announcements. They can get lengthy and tedious, and by the time she says something that I might have found interesting, I have completely lost focus. Or, perhaps, her messages could be corralled to one day a week, with all of the birthdays being announced at once."

"I suppose that doesn't sound _too_ horrible," Porrim said, relenting. "And I admit, if you're able to get Quentin to curb her talking, the whole school will thank you."

"And I would probably pay more attention to a peer than to the principal," Rose agreed. "And, of course, the format of releasing information with the classes instead of over the PA to the whole school also allows for students to ask for clarification in case something has been worded confusingly."

"As it often is," Kanaya mumbled under her breath.

"So that's probably a good start. At least I have some halfway decent ideas and know where to start. I believe tomorrow after church I'll start on my speech. My debate teacher agreed to look it over for me."

"You might just have a leg up on the competition, then. And with these posters? Well..." Porrim held hers up proudly. _VOTE FOR VANTAS! A VOTE FOR YOUR FUTURE_ was painted elegantly across it in Porrim's preferred jade-green. Kankri let the group have free reign with the designs as long as they bounced slogans off him first, but he had to admit that he rather liked Porrim's design. "You're doing well, I think. And with the way you told off Cronus last night, I think this election will be no big deal for you at all."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Her confidence was infectious. He just might win after all.

* * *

 

He lived for weekends.

In his opinion, Saturday afternoons, just like this one, were the best. He was no longer completely exhausted from the night before, the sun was still out, and the promise of another full day stretched out before him. Sundays were spent with his brother and parents and extended family, which he didn't mind, but he was a more solitary sort of person, and Saturday afternoons were his domain. He could be on his own and simply breathe.

So it was odd that, now, he felt a strange twinge of loneliness.

Sitting in the bed of his truck, back against the rear window with his knees drawn up to his chest, he found himself reminiscing about the last time he'd been in the back of this truck, just over a short week ago. Rufioh had been with him, winding up in his arms, and it had been the best thing in the world. His heart had flown and he wondered if Rufioh really knew what he did to Horuss.

Sometimes, it was difficult not to immediately seek out Rufioh in a room. Homecoming had been a particular kind of torture, up on stage with only Dirk Strider separating the two of them. He'd gotten so used to being able to pull Rufioh to him, like he had on Friday, that it was a struggle not to immediately reach for his hand. Judging by how often Rufioh's eyes had found his that night, the feeling was mutual.

And that was something else that Horuss struggled with—the fact that, after three long years, nearly out of nowhere, Rufioh suddenly reciprocated his feelings. Part of him was still convinced he was dreaming, that he'd wake up soon and find his class ring on his nightstand, that it would still be the first week of school and Rufioh and Damara Megido would be draped all over each other.

But every morning, he awoke and realized he didn't have his ring anymore. Rufioh wore it now, on a chain around his neck, like Horuss had daydreamed of since he was a freshman. (Actually, in his daydreams, Rufioh could proudly wear Horuss's class ring on his finger for everyone to see, but he was a realist and understood the need for discretion. Really, the fact that Rufioh even wore the ring at all was more than he'd dared hoped for.) Rufioh wanted _him_ , and even though he was keeping up this charade with Damara, Horuss knew it was just that: an act. Rufioh didn't want her. He wanted _him_.

Ever since they were freshmen, Horuss had admired the smaller boy, had felt a strange sort of respect for how he carried himself. It wasn't just that he was beautiful—and he was—it was the fact that he didn't seem to know it, that he felt he needed to defend himself from everything, that he seemed fearless when standing up to the seniors who liked to push him and the other two (who would grow to become three of the four Lost Boys) around in the hallways. He seemed so strong, although it wasn't until he heard the whole story a few months later that he saw _why_. Rufioh had to be strong—there was no other choice for him.

Horuss saw him come to school with black eyes and swollen cheeks and split lips and bruises, so many bruises, and he wished they were friends so he could say something to him, ask him if he needed anything, offer some kind of help, no matter how futile it was, but Rufioh fell in with the greasers and Horuss's skills always lay with athletics, and he never thought there would ever be a way they could just talk like two teenagers instead of slipping into "greaser" and "jock" roles that would put them at-odds. Not that Rufioh was ever rude to him—they just never got the chance to get to know each other.

So he'd swallowed it back, tamping it down to keep himself from interfering, hoping he could eventually move on while suspecting he wouldn't, not during high school, not while he had to see Rufioh nearly every day. Sure, he'd flash an occasional smile in his direction during school hours, but Rufioh never seemed to notice, and why would he? Girls constantly giggled over him and he never seemed to notice _that_ , so it was no surprise that subtlety flew past him.

But then, just a few weeks ago, he'd been passing by the gas station and he noticed a familiar figure walking along as a violet New Yorker peeled away, and he couldn't help but stop and offer him a ride. Horuss fully expected Rufioh to tell him to fuck off, but, miraculously, against his expectations, Rufioh had accepted. And then there had been the ride itself, where Rufioh opened up to him, implying he liked boys, he didn't like girls at all, and Horuss's subtle remark about his cousin, and the next thing he knew, he had Rufioh pinned to the door of the truck and Rufioh _wanted_ to be there, kissing him.

As he watched Rufioh walk up to his house and disappear inside that night, he knew he'd never be the same. There was no way you remained the same person after discovering your three-year-old unrequited crush was no longer unrequited.

His fingers twitched and he tightened them, wishing Rufioh's hand was in his right now. He promised himself that he'd give Rufioh space, for both their benefit—he couldn't afford to completely lose himself in Rufioh, and he was afraid that the smaller boy would grow bored of him soon if they spent too much time together. Besides, Rufioh had to make it seem like he was still giving Damara attention—and he understood the necessity of their relationship as well. If Rufioh started floating around school like an idiot in love, well, that would make sense if he had a girlfriend. If he was single, though, his behavior might become suspicious. As for him...

He was contemplating asking Meulin to pretend to be his girlfriend, just in case. Maybe...

But the sun was beating down on him, and the crossbreeze in these woods was so cool, and even though he really wasn't that tired, he felt himself slipping into a nap. He hoped he dreamed of Rufioh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to do a little "getting into Horuss's head" thing for awhile so you all know that he is absolutely bonkers over Rufioh AND THESE IDIOTS ARE GOING TO KILL ME.


End file.
